


Behind the Facade

by GinAndShatteredDreams



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullying, Death, Electrocution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Psychological Torture, Torture, Trauma, Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinAndShatteredDreams/pseuds/GinAndShatteredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (super angsty) what if scenario where Stan and the kids arrive a little earlier to rescue Ford during Weirdmageddon and witness what he was up against with Bill.  Things unfold a little differently once Stan has a better idea of what they're dealing with.  Based on/continuation of <a href="http://x-i-l-verify.tumblr.com/post/140202575950/cruel-mercies">this wonderfully painful short fic</a> by <a href="http://x-i-l-verify.tumblr.com/">x-i-l-verify</a><br/>The major character death is temporary but I used the warning just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [the tumblr version has an illustration if you'd like to see](http://skillfulstudio.tumblr.com/post/142145889748/behind-the-facade-pt-1-of-4-with-art-under-the)

~Glass Shard Beach - A lifetime ago~  
  
Stan kicked his feet, sending his swing hurtling back and forth.  The salty air had grown frigid with the falling leaves and he’d grown bored with waiting for his brother.  He missed walking home with him everyday but now that they were freshmen, he found himself walking with Carla increasingly often as his brother remained behind for everything from piano practice to helping their science teacher grade papers.  While it was to nice have more alone time with his girlfriend, it just wasn’t the same as having his twin along with them.  And worse, he worried daily about Stanford walking home alone.  There hadn’t been an incident since spring, but still…  He was running awfully late…      
  
Something rustled behind him.  He dragged his sneakers through the sand, bringing his swing to a hault.  "Hey there, sixer, about time you-“  His eyes widened as he turned to greet his brother.  "Holy hot cakes, Stanford what happened to you?!”  
  
His twin hobbled over to the swing beside him and flopped onto it.  His head hung low, trying to hide his dirt streaked cheeks and black eye.  The front of his shirt and pants were soaked in mud and filth and a matted patch of hair above his left eye dripped blood down his face.  "I fought back this time…“ he muttered, "Like you and dad taught me.”  He wiped his nose, trailing red smears across his fist.  "I grabbed Crampelter’s shirt and punched him right in the face.“    
  
"Whoa!  Good for you!  I wish I could have seen that.”  He patted his brother’s back.  
  
“No you don’t,” he sighed, staring at his red and brown smudged hands, “It just made things worse.  I’m still not strong enough…”  
  
“Hey, let’s get you home and patched up, huh?”  
  
Ford nodded.  Stan wrapped his twin’s arm over his shoulders to ease the weight on his twisted ankle and led him to the sidewalk.   The streetlights flickered on as he helped him navigate the groups of pedestrians and traffic-heavy intersections.  Honestly, he wondered how Ford had made it to the beach without getting run over in his compromised state.  Once they reached the pawn shop’s facade, he glanced through the amber-lit window and spotted their dad behind the counter.  His lips pressed together in a disinterested frown as he examined an ornate clock while an elderly woman awaited his assessment with fidgeting hands.    
  
“Hmm.  He’s got a customer.  We should go around back,” Stan suggested.    
  
“Mm,” Ford agreed.  
  
Stan unlocked the door and held his brother’s elbow to help him up the stairs as quietly as possible.  Their father’s devaluing appraisal funneled through to the back stairwell as they ascended.  Stan peeked into their apartment.  The door to their parents’ room was closed and he could hear their mother’s voice beyond it, weaving someone’s supposed future in an eerie cadence.      
  
“Coast’s clear.  Sounds like mom’s doing a reading,” Stan said, “At least we can get you fixed up before we have to try to explain things.”  He motioned toward the bathroom.  
  
Ford obeyed and limped through the door.  "I wish we didn’t have to tell them,“ he muttered as he sat on the edge of the bathtub.    
  
"Yeah.  It always messes things up more,” Stan sighed, running cold water over a cloth.    
  
“Can we just say I tripped or something?”  
  
“Again?  Are you kidding?  They’re never going to believe you’re that clumsy.”  Stan knelt in front of his brother, tipping his head to get a better view of the wound nestled in Ford’s hair.  He blotted it with the cloth eliciting a wince from his twin.  "I know it hurts and all but try to stay still, will ya?  And look, I get that you don’t want mom calling their parents or nothin’-“  
  
"No it’s not that.”  
  
“Then what-” He swallowed his words as his brother raised his head to face him.      
  
Ford’s lips trembled as he spoke, “I’m tired of being like this!  I’m tired of not being strong enough!  I’m tired of everyone hating me!”    
  
“For what it’s worth, I don’t hate you…”  
  
“Thank you.”  He tried to smile.  "But… you know what I mean, don’t you?  Ever since you stood up to that mugger at the theater that night, people actually talk to you.  You even have a girlfriend now.“  
  
"Yeah.  I guess I get it.”  
  
“I just get made fun of and beat up because I’m a nerdy freak of nature.”  Ford breathed heavily with closed eyes, trying to blink back the burning heat rising within them.  It had always worked before.  Why was it so difficult this time?    
  
Stan sighed, “Oh, not this again.  Stop trying to hold it all in all the time, you’re gonna give yourself an ulcer.  You know you don’t have to keep up that emotionless robot thing with me, right?”  
  
“But I-  I’m not a little kid anymore and dad always says…”      
  
“Ugh.  He’s really gotten to you hasn’t he?  You know, not everything he says is right.  It’s OK to let it out sometimes.  It’s just me here.  I ain’t gonna judge you and I certainly ain’t gonna tell anyone if you’re that embarrassed by it.”  
  
He shook his head, biting his lip, his eyes still tightly shut.  
  
Stan sighed and uncapped a bottle of rubbing alcohol.  "This is gonna sting but it’s all I could find in the cabinet right now.“  He held the cloth to Ford’s forehead, just below the oozing wound.  He tipped the bottle, dribbling the burning fluid over the gash.    
  
"Mmmph!” Ford pursed his lips over the involuntary grunt his throat produced.  When the burning eased up, he realized his clenched eyelids had failed him.  His barriers were decimated by a single escaped tear.  In an instant, they flowed freely down his cheeks.  His hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his sobs and gasps for air.  Stan unrolled a wad of toilet paper and stuffed it into his brother’s scraped up hand.  He simply squished it between his palms, holding his head down, his shoulders hunched in humiliation.    
  
“Hey…  It’s OK, Sixer.  You don’t gotta be ashamed.”    
  
Ford lifted his head.  His emotional eruption had eroded streaks through the dirt and blood smudged on his cheeks, like rills carved by rain in a dirt mound.  Despite it, he managed a weak smile.    
  
As much as Stan knew his brother’s pent-up breakdown had been stifled for far too long; as much as he wanted him to finally let go and let it out, he did not expect it to to affect him so profoundly.  His temper flared.  He wanted nothing more than to strangle his brother’s tormentors himself.  He shook his head, trying to focus on the moment.  A deep breath untangled the knots of rage in his chest.  He unfurled another bundle of toilet paper and pressed it to Ford’s bloodied cheek, wiping away a portion of the grime.    
  
“Thanks, Stanley,” he said before tackling his brother playfully, leaving grimy six-fingered prints on the back of his shirt.  Stan let out a chuckle and hugged him back.    
  
“Heh, now we’re gonna have to wash both of our shirts before mom sees what a mess we’ve made,” he joked, patting his brother’s back.  
  
  
  
  
~Weirdmageddon - Day…?  Time is dead and meaning has no meaning.~  
  
  
Stan grunted at the memory.   _“When dad found out what happened he really threw him into the ring,”_ he thought, _“Still can’t believe poindexter got better than me even at fighting!  Jerk never thanked me for anything ever again after that.  Guess he never had any reason to.  Never came home bloodied up anymore.  Never had a breakdown like that again.  Kids were downright scared of him after he knocked out Crampelter’s gang that one day.  But the teachers loved him.  ”‘Oh Stanley, why can’t you be more like your brother and not steal letters from the school sign so reads ass hard High?’  Bah.  That was genius and they know it.  Getting up there to do that wasn’t easy!“_  
  
Stan sat with his back to everyone, staring at the tarp which covered the newly completed Shacktron.  He glanced at what was once his home and business.  Despite his protests, it had been transformed into a shielded weapon thanks to his brother’s apocalyptic mistake.  He snorted.   _"Why should things be any different now?  He doesn’t need me.  Doesn’t want me.  He can take care of himself and his own mess from now on for all I care.  I did my part and what thanks do I get?  My house is ruined.  The kids are putting themselves on the line for him.  And everybody thinks he’s the hero.  But the kids…  what am I going to do?  They can’t fight this thing.”_  He glanced over his shoulder at the group.            
  
Dipper and Mabel huddled together, staring at McGucket’s masterpiece.  They surveyed the others as they prepared themselves for the coming fight.  Pacifica studied a fashion magazine she’d found under Mabel’s bed, her twitching legs betraying her indifferent expression.  Sheriff Blubs nursed a cracked mug of weak coffee, staring absently through a part in the tarp.  McGucket checked various bolts and seams, assuring the construction was secure.    
  
Stan turned back to his inner grumbling, his shoulders hunched.  He nearly tipped out of his chair when Grenda and Candy ducked under the tarp beside him, breathlessly rushing over to the group.  
  
“You guys!  Bill and his weirdo friends just went off into the woods!” Grenda huffed.  
  
“Now is the perfect time to do a reconnaissance mission,” Candy suggested.  
  
“Oh man, I didn’t think he’d just leave like that,” Dipper said, tapping his chin and considering their new found options.      
  
“You say they all left?“ Mabel pondered.  "That seems er…”  
  
“Negligent?  Reckless?”  Dipper offered.    
  
“Yeah that.  Why would they do that?”  
  
“Does it matter?  It’s is a great opportunity and I think we should take advantage of it.  Maybe a few of us should go ahead and scout it out while we can.  How long will it take to get the Shacktron up and running, McGucket?” Dipper asked.  
  
“Should take about a half-hour or so tops.  The engines’ll need to warm up  and the crew will need to do equipment and safety checks.”  
  
“Ok yeah that’s great and all but,” Mabel said, her hand on Dipper’s shoulder, “How are we going to get up there?  We planned on using the launching tube thingys we built once we get close enough…”    
  
“I don’t see why we couldn’t use them now…  Er, can we?”  Dipper shrugged to McGucket.  
  
“Should work.  I just have to recalcumalate the trajectory and tweak the settings a bit.  Gimme three minutes.”  
  
“See, problem solved.  So who’s going with us?” Dipper asked, scanning the room for volunteers.  
  
“You ain’t goin’ no where without me,” McGucket said, glancing up from his calculations and waving a wrench, “You two can handle starting up and piloting this without me, right?” He peered over his glasses at Grenda and Candy.  
  
“Sure thing!”  Grenda nodded.  
  
“And you guys,” he spoke to Shmebulock and the gnomes, “You can take over for me in good old Gobblewonker, right?”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
“Shmebulock.”      
  
Sheriff Blubs burst into the conversation.  “I’m going whether you like it or not!  I want my Durland back!”    
  
“Dudes, you can count me in,” Soos said with a raised hand.  
  
“Me too.  I’ll tear that triangle’s dumb eye out if he comes back while we’re there!” Wendy snarled.  
  
“Great!  There’s room for two more.  Anyone else?”  Dipper asked.  
  
“Ugh fine.  I can’t let you twerps go it alone.  But I’ll have you know that if I die, I’m suing you all,” Pacifica said with a swish of her hand.  
  
“Ok then…  that was unexpected,” Mabel said, “One more space to fill.  Grunkle Stan…?” she tugged at his sleeve.    
  
He turned further away from the group with a humph.    
  
Mabel’s hand withdrew.  Stan’s shoulders hunched forward.      
  
“Argh!  I can’t let you do this without me!” Grenda shouted, colliding with Mabel and nearly knocking her off of her feet as her arms squeezed her.  
  
“Me neither,” Candy sniffled, joining in on the hug.  “Maybe someone else could run the controls so one of us can-”  
  
“Alright fine!”  Stan stood and faced them.  “I’ll go on your dumb mission but it’s only ‘cause I don’t want you kids gettin’ hurt.”    
  
“Great!  Let’s go before it’s too late!”  Mabel tugged at Stan’s hand, pulling him inside the altered and armed Mystery Shack.    
  
Each team member fastened their parachute buckles with nervous hands.    
  
“Alrighty!” McGucket announced, “Everything’s been recalibrated.  We’re clear for launch. Candy, Grenda, I’m countin’ on ya’ll to hold down the fort and get'er up and running as soon as that power gauge is lit up.  You’re gonna have to be alert in case Bill shows up while we’re in there.  If he does, you gotta create a distraction so we can get out.”  
  
“You can count on us, Old Man McGucket!” Grenda crowed proudly as she and Candy saluted.  
  
The reconnaissance and rescue team stepped into the the tubes lining the walls of the launch room and braced themselves.    
  
McGucket counted down, “Three…  Two…”  
  
“Are you sure we have to do this now?” Stan grunted, “Can’t we wait until this thing is mobile?  Or maybe we could, you know, come up with a plan that doesn’t involve us plummeting to our-”  
  
“One…”  
  
“Now!” Wendy shouted and slammed her hand over the launch button.      
  
The team shot through the open mouth of the Gobblewonker, hurtling through the air toward a triangular opening in the side of the fearamid.    
  
“Oh man Oh man,” Dipper chanted, his voice nearly drowned out by the constant yell of his great-uncle.    
  
“Woo-hoo!” Mabel hollered happily, clearly having the time of her life despite the danger as she somersaulted through the air.    
  
Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy landed nimbly within the Fearamid.  Blubs, McGucket, and Pacifica experienced less than graceful landings but jumped to their feet with ease.  Stan, however, faceplanted on the black stone.    
  
“Ugh,” he rubbed his head and struggled to his feet.  He joined the team in staring at the throne of human suffering in awe.    
  
“Oh man it looks even worse close up…” Dipper muttered.  
  
Soos felt ill.  He couldn’t stomach looking at so many familiar faces frozen in varying expressions of shock, fear, and agony.  The handyman turned away but something else caught his eye.  In a far corner of the fearamid, a blue light glowed.  His eyes focused in it.  "Is somebody lying there?“ He thought, eyes squinting, "Is that blood?  And that coat, it’s so familiar…  Waitaminute…”  Soos’s nausea increased tenfold as his mind put two and two together. “Uh, Mr. Pines,” he whispered, tugging at Stan’s sleeve.  “ _It’s gonna be OK Soos.  The boss will know what to do!”_   He repeated to himself.  
  
“What?  Sheesh, leave me alone, Soos,” Stan huffed and turned his back to the group, his arms crossed. “It’s you guys’ fault I’m even here in the first place instead of safe back home.  Yeesh, this place gives me the willies…”    
  
Soos frowned.  If Stan wasn’t going to cooperate, he had to figure out something else and fast.  He reached out with an unsteady hand and tapped Wendy’s shoulder.  She turned to find an inexplicable look of worry and grief in his eyes.  He discretely tipped his head toward the distant corner of the throne room.    
  
Her green eyes widened in horror as she caught sight of what had him so upset.  “Oh no…  Oh man…”  Wendy murmured, the color draining from her face. “Soos.”  She edged closer to him and motioned to Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica, who were glancing around the eldritch structure in equal parts horror and fascination.  “The kids… We can’t let them see. Not until we know what shape he’s in.”  
  
Soos nodded solemnly, glad that her train of thought had followed his.  
“I’ll tell McGucket,” he replied, in a voice little more than a whisper. “You tell Blubs.”  
  
Soos placed a hand on McGucket’s shoulder and pointed to the figure lying in the corner of the Fearamid.  McGucket’s eyes filled with worry at the sight.  He stared, frozen in place for a moment before edging toward his old friend, his feet scraping and dragging across the stone.    
  
Wendy turned to the short policeman whose eyes were still frantically scanning the throne, searching for his deputy.  She tapped his shoulder.  At first he didn’t respond.  She tried again.  He jumped, startled out of his focused search, and turned his attention to her.  She jerked her head toward the corner.  It took him a moment to register what she was pointing out.  His hands clamped over his mouth when he did.  Wendy pointed to Pacifica and mouthed, “We have to get them out of here.”  Sheriff Blubs nodded to her and she nodded to Soos, ready to put their plan into action.      
  
Soos made a sudden move for Dipper, scooping him up in his arms, clapping a hand over his eyes, and speeding toward an alley behind the behemoth throne.  
  
“Whoa, Soos!  What the heck?” Dipper sputtered and clawed at the hand covering his eyes.    
  
Wendy grabbed Mabel’s wrist and instructed, “Don’t look back, just trust me!” as she pulled the younger girl behind her.  
  
Mabel couldn’t help herself. Even as her feet followed Wendy, Soos, and her brother, she had to at least peek to see what had suddenly gotten them all so riled up.  In a split second glance over her shoulder, all she spotted was Sheriff Blubs running behind them with a thrashing and protesting Pacifica tucked securely under his arm.    
  
Once behind the throne, Dipper yelled, “Soos! What the heck’s going on? What was that all about?”  
  
“Yeah, what gives, people?” Pacifica huffed, straightening her yellow sweater as Blubs gently set her down beside Mabel.  
  
“Sorry, dudes, but we had to get you out of there,” Soos said apologetically, still holding an annoyed and confused Dipper in the crook of one arm.  
  
“Why, is Bill back? Wait, where’s Grunkle Stan and McGucket?!” In a blind panic, Mabel tried to run past Wendy only to be swept off her feet by the taller girl.  
  
“They’re okay, man.”  Wendy set Mabel back down in front of her and bent to her level, her fingers clutching the shoulders of her pink sweater.  She spoke in an uncharacteristically grim tone, “Just…  please trust us and stay here with us for right now.”  Wendy’s voice trailed off at the distant sound of McGucket’s, calling out to Stan.    
  
“Will you stop bein’ a stubborn old cactus for just one minute an’ git over here, Stanley Pines!” Fiddleford’s hysterical command hitched.  It seemed as though he was about to lose any semblance of composure.    
  
Soos held Dipper in a bear hug until his panicked wriggling ceased.  Wendy pulled Mabel close, wiped away the tears welling up in her eyes, and wrapped her arms tightly around the small girl. Blubs held Pacifica, surprisingly compliant or perhaps frozen in fear, close to him, uncertain if it was for her comfort or his own.  The adults and teen each covered the ears of the child for whom they’d claimed responsibility.  Even though the preteens were confused and frightened, they all sensed the severity of the situation and stayed quiet, trading worried glances with each other.  
  
“What?!“ Stan shouted at the hillbilly genius. "What is it, you crazy-”  He turned to find McGucket standing near a corner to the left of the fearamid’s triangular entry. The inventor held his hat over his chest as he gazed sadly down at… “Stanford!” The word ripped itself from Stan’s throat before he even registered it had left.  His heart felt like it had stopped inside his chest as he stared wide-eyed at the prone body lying in a heap on the floor.    
  
The moment of stunned paralysis washed away and he rushed to the corner, his breath barely able to squeeze through to his tightened lungs.  Halfway there he could see ethereal blue manacles wrapped around his brother’s wrists and ankles and a collar clamped around his neck, each tethering him to the wall with a glowing chain as if he was a cruel man’s dog.  A few steps short, he slipped and nearly fell flat on his back, barely catching himself.    
  
“What the-”  He looked down.  Blood streaked the floor, leading to where his brother lay curled on his side, his face obscured by his matted, scarlet stained hair.  Stan’s mind raced.  Ford hadn’t simply collapsed there.  He’d been either dragged or thrown across the floor with violent force.  Stan struggled against his own throat for breath as he approached McGucket and knelt beside his motionless twin.  His hand trembled as he reached for his shoulder.  
  
“Stanford…  Stanford, it’s me …  Come on, wake up…”  He rocked Ford’s shoulder gently.  No response.  He reached for his brother’s hand, heart sinking at the absence of the familiar warmth he remembered from their childhood high-sixes as his fingers curled around Ford’s limp, unresponsive ones.  His jaw clenched tightly at the sight of the red streams trickling over Ford’s palm from beneath the manacle.  He tried to check for a pulse.  “OW!”  He jerked away as his fingers brushed against the cuff encircling his brother’s wrist.  It’s fiery glow burned at the slightest touch and Ford could not escape its bite.  Stan’s arms shook, this time with fury rather than fear.    
  
Stan tried to breathe, to calm down enough to continue searching for any sign of life. He held his hand close to his twin’s face hoping for some sign of breath.  Nothing.  Just more dark lines of crimson trickling from his mouth and nose.  As delicately as he could, he tilted Ford’s head to the side.  His stomach twisted as he caught a glimpse of the burns and bruises streaking his brother’s throat beneath his frayed turtleneck.  He pressed two fingers against the side of his neck right under his jaw, searching for any flutter of a heartbeat.   Still nothing.  Stan’s fingers brushed against Ford’s bruised, ashen cheek, finding it as cold as his hand had been.  A familiar rage flared at a sight he hadn’t beheld since his brother’s breakdown all those years ago.  Streaks, eroded like rills trailing from his eyes, cut through the dirt and blood smeared down his cheeks.  Tears.  What had that monster done to him before he…  
  
And then it hit him.  There was no bringing him back this time.  Stanford…  his twin… _his brother_ …  was dead.  Bill had tormented and killed him while he’d stubbornly refused to offer any help.  He’d screwed up again.  He’d let everyone down and lost his brother again.  This time, forever.  He felt a hand on his shoulder.  Fiddleford.  He tried to speak but all he could manage was a choked, strangled sob that felt as if it was torn from his throat by an exterior force.  The weight of it all crashed down on him.  Ford was their last hope.  He was the only one who knew how to defeat the demon who had left him like this.  The kids would never forgive him for being so stubborn- The kids!  
  
He leapt to his feet, searching for the others but they were nowhere in sight.  “Kids!”  
  
“S’ok,” McGucket assured him, sniffling, “Soos and the others’re taking care of them so they didn’t have to see anything in case…” his voice trailed off miserably, leaving the implicit meaning in his words unspoken.  
  
“What… what are we going to do now?” Stan asked brokenly. His shoulders sagged as he gazed at his brother’s lifeless body through the tears blurring his sight. He tugged at his sleeve with the intent of removing his coat and using it to at least partially cover Ford so the kids wouldn’t have to see him like this; so they could remember the smiling man who took joy in jumping around in giggle time bouncy boots, playing dumb nerd games with Dipper, and learning to knit with Mabel.   So they could remember him as the hero who helped them protect the Mystery Shack and, by extension, everyone in the resistance from Bill’s terror.      
  
“Stop!”  The voice was distant, barely audible.    
  
Stan and Fiddleford searched for the source.  Finally Fiddleford pointed to a cage hanging by Bill’s throne.    
  
“I’ve been…” the voice huffed, becoming more distinct as the two ran closer, “trying to…  get your attention…”  
  
“Gideon?!” Stan squinted at the boy, panting and wheezing from exhaustion as he danced in his cage.  
  
“If he’s dead… leave… leave him be. Go…  and hide…”  
  
“What?” Stan demanded, suddenly furious that this little brat that had tried to steal his home and threatened his family would dare to presume to tell him what to do with his brother’s body. “Why?”  
  
“Please…!” Gideon gasped, his expression open and raw, his eyes pleading with the two men to listen to him. “Just trust me!  Hurry!  He’s coming back now!”  
  
McGucket grabbed Stan’s wrist and pulled him toward the alley behind the monolithic throne.  They barely ducked behind it as Bill and his henchmaniacs floated inside.    
  
"Oh man.  Man I needed that.”  Bill laughed, “Did you guys see the look on that bear’s face when we poofed it up into that tree?  Hilarious!”    
  
“Yeah but I still liked when you suspended the water from that pond in mid-air.  The… what are they called again?” Teeth tapped his lower gum trying to recall the name.    
  
“I think the humans call them fish,” Paci-Fire’s demonic growl echoed.      
  
“Yeah.  Fish.  They were practically swimming into each other!”  
  
“Yeah, Xanthar nearly flattened a mountain when he rolled over laughing.  Good call on taking a break, Pyronica.  But I guess we should get back to business.  Aw who am I kidding, this is going to be fun now.  I’ve got all kinds of new ideas.”  Bill floated to the corner.  
  
Kryptos snickered under his breath both amused and somewhat nervous.  What if Bill guessed he was responsible for breaking his current favorite toy?  
  
“He’s gonna take my deal before you know it,” Bill’s eye squinted merrily as he pulled on the chain attached to Ford’s collar, lifting his head and shoulders from the ground.  "Right Sixer?“  
  
Stan squinted but he could barely tell what was happening in the corner.  Part of him strained to hear.  Part of him wanted to cover his ears to block out the muffled sniffles from the terrified kids.  He hadn’t told them yet.  He hadn’t had a chance.  Even so, he guessed they knew something was horribly wrong.  They probably feared the worst and he was going to have to tell them their fears had come true.    
  
"Hey.  Sixer.”  Bill’s eye narrowed as he shook the chain.  Ford’s head and arms hung limply from the collar.  "Ugh!  You have got to be kidding me!  What the heck, Fordsy?  You used to be so much more durable than this.“  
  
Stan’s fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms.  Bill hadn’t killed him.  He’d left him alone to suffer, fully expecting he’d still be alive when he returned.  
  
Kryptos fought to hide a smile as Bill let out a tantrum-worthy, "Arrgh!”  Aside from the chain in Bill’s hand, the others binding Ford dissolved.  Bill whipped the collar’s chain, sending Ford sliding across the floor in front of the mammoth throne.  
  
Stan stepped back, his eyes slammed shut and hand covering his mouth.  He leaned against the throne’s base, clutching his chest.  McGucket had collapsed to his knees, his head cradled in his hands.  Soos and the others remained behind the throne, unaware of the details of the horror story unfolding around them.    
  
“Seriously, Ford?  Now I have to waste good time and energy on you again!”  
  
Stan’s eyes widened.  "Again?“  He thought.  "What is he talking about?”  He steadied himself and peeked around the throne.  
  
Bill hovered above his brother’s broken form.  He grabbed his shoulders, flipped him over, and slammed him onto his back.  Stan winced at the sight.  He watched in horror and awe as Bill pressed one hand to Ford’s chest.  Blue light engulfed him.  His wounds sealed.  His bruises faded.  The blood vaporized.  Even some of the more severe tears in his coat mended themselves.  As the light faded, Stan could see the healing was imperfect.  Bill had left a few scattered wounds intact.    
  
The demon’s hand withdrew.  He floated back a foot or so and waited with crossed arms and legs.    
  
Stan’s mouth hung open.  He thought it was a hallucination when his brother’s fingers moved.  His heart skipped a beat as Ford’s eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things sometimes get worse before they get better...  
> Thanks to Kryptos and his spiteful prank, Stan thought he’d lost Ford forever and along with him, their last hope of defeating Bill. But Bill wasn’t about to give up on getting the information he needed…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the tumblr version has an illustration if you'd like to see](http://skillfulstudio.tumblr.com/post/142479895113/behind-the-facade-pt-2-of-4-bonus)

Kryptos floated among the upper support beams of the fearamid, the rainbow of light swirling between the wall’s bricks glintied across his edges and angles.  He drifted into the shadows, torn between hiding a smug curl of his lipless mouth and shrinking back in fear as the boss discovered his handiwork.  His eye scanned the crime scene, double checking it for any evidence that would tie him to the human’s murder.  No.  He’d covered his tracks.  It was going to be fine.      
  
As Bill learned he’d apparently been wrong about the human’s ability to cling to life, he roared, “Seriously, Ford?  Now I have to waste good time and energy on you again!”  
  
With that, Kryptos couldn’t help but grin.  He’d certainly gotten a rise out of the boss with his little prank.  For a moment, though, he did wonder if his boss’s pawn would have survived if he hadn’t put him out of his misery.    
  
He glanced around at the others who had mostly opted to cower in fear of Bill’s temper tantrum.  Pyronica, however, raised a fist and cheered him on. _“Figures.  Sucking up and showing off as always,”_ he thought.  He drifted behind Xanthar so he could gain a better vantage point while continuing to smile to himself discreetly.  He peeked around the loaf-shaped monster, catching sight of Bill as he pressed a hand to the deceased human’s chest.  The Masonic diamond snickered inaudibly at the frustrated furrowing of Bill’s brow.  Sure the time and energy spent to revive a 3-dimensional bag of bones was infinitesimal to immortals but for him, it was a win.  A small win, but a win nonetheless.  Even better, the boss was blaming the human for being too weak.  Bill didn’t even suspect it might have been foul play.      
  
In a way he wished the others knew what he’d just pulled off.  But he knew he could never breathe a word to them.  They’d use it as leverage against him for eternity.  No, he’d have to be content with himself on this one.  He watched Bill withdraw his hand and float away from the revived human, almost feeling sorry for the fragile mortal until another fit of excitement over his prank washed it away.  He watched and waited.  No matter how many times Bill had revived the creatures they toyed with, he was always caught off guard by the shock the flesh sacks experienced when they returned to their bodies.  He nearly spun backwards as the human’s eyes burst open and he gasped for breath.  His prank was officially over and he’d gotten away clean.    
  
  
****  
  
Stanford let out a barely audible moan before a coughing fit wracked his body.  A soreness set in as if he’d spent the previous day fighting a gremlobin.  The dull ache tightening his muscles was almost comforting in comparison to the immobilizing mental and physical agony drowning him before…  Before what?  Why was his first waking memory so unthinkable?  Was it a dream?  Another nightmare?  Was everything a dream?  His brother, the kids, the end of the world…    
  
His eyes were dry and burning.  Were they open?  Yes.  Blurred strips of red and rainbow light crossed his vision, separating  the darkness into blocks.  They stacked upon each other, decreasing in size as they leaned into a point far above him.  He focused through his smudged and cracked glasses, finally able to decipher his surroundings.  Bill’s fortress.  Another nightmare?  No.  It wasn’t a dream.  Or if it was, the sensations surging through him were unnaturally vivid.  The end of the world was as real as the cold stone beneath his back, the pressure in his head, and the stench of burning trees scorching his parched and raw throat.      
  
His mind scrambled trying to sort nightmares from reality.  There were too many overlaps.  Which were dreams and which were memories?  He couldn’t be sure anymore.  Why?  Why was it so cloudy?  And then he realized, they were both.  Bill knew him too well.  He knew how to bring his deepest fears to life and he’d done just that.  Except one.  It was too recent for the demon to know.  His family.  So far, he hadn’t threatened them.    
  
He clung to that thought, using it as a lifeline to lead him through his mental blizzard.  The static cleared and he remembered an electric jolt piercing his heart and pulsing through him until his breath had been utterly wrung from him.  He’d been in no shape to determine what caused it.  Not that it mattered.  His body had already begun to shut down from Bill’s previous tactics.  All it did was speed up his inevitable demise.  Again.  That’s right…  It wasn’t the first time Bill had gone too far.        
  
He winced as the nightmare that was reality set in.  He’d been revived just so Bill could attempt to break him one more time.  With that thought, he nearly wished returning to the peaceful oblivion he’d been torn from was an option.  Yet he couldn’t give in to it.  He hoped the kids and his brother were still out there somewhere.  He hadn’t spotted them among the stone statues.  Either way he had to keep going and find a way to fix his mistakes.  His attempt at reconciling his memories and thoughts halted as his tormentor’s voice stung his ears once more.      
  
“Welcome back, Fordsy,” Bill taunted, his hands perched on his angled sides, “I hope you enjoyed your little nap because it’s the last one you’ll be getting.”  He wiggled his fingers, summoning the collar’s chain.  Ford winced at the clatter of its links and the scrape of metal against stone.  The chain slithered into Bill’s hand and he gave it a violent tug.  
  
Ford was mercilessly lifted to his feet, muffling a choked grunt, his fingers clawing at the collar.  Glowing red hands sprang up from the stone floor and tugged at his arms, pulling them behind his back.  They tangled around his legs, rooting his feet to the floor.  His eyes narrowed as the demon floated entirely too close to his face.    
  
“So.  Are you ready to make a deal with me yet?”  
  
Ford coughed, his throat straining against the collar.  He’d grown weary of the metallic tang of blood.  Perhaps it was his exhaustion or delirium from hunger and thirst or perhaps he’d simply snapped, but he could not ignore the mischievous idea tugging at his mind.  A harrowing smile bore his reddened teeth.  His lips puckered and he spat in Bill’s eye.    
  
  
****  
  
  
Stan stepped back in shock at the crimson splatter that forced Bill’s eye shut.  Blood.  His nerdy brother had just spat his own blood in a demon’s eye to defy him.  He shook his head and muttered, “I am so proud of you right now, Poindexter.”  
   
But the severity of the situation hit him fast.  Bill flamed red and towered above Ford, above the throne, practically filling the cavernous room.    
  
_“Where are the others?!”_  Stan’s thoughts raced.   _“We can’t fight him like this.  We need…  we need that giant robot thing they built out of my house…  his…  no.  Our house._ ”          
  
Bill lifted his hand like a conductor signaling a crescendo.  The ropy red arms and hands immobilizing Ford recoiled into the floor.  The collar and chain evaporated as Ford levitated about three feet from the ground, his expression growing fearful.  With a flick of his wrist, Bill sent him hurtling upwards where he hovered beside the throne.  A twist of the demon’s hand forced his arms and legs outward until he was splayed in mid-air.  Chains slithered toward him and latched onto his manacles, restraining him in the brutally vulnerable position.      
  
Bill faded back to yellow and shrank to fit his throne.  He clutched the arm rests for a moment, taking a breath.  He’d just calmed down and it took all of a minute for his former pawn to infuriate him once more.  He couldn’t let one human get to him like this.  He glanced around at his henchmaniacs.  Pryonica looked concerned.  Keyhole, Kryptos, and 8-Ball hid behind a cowering Xanthar.   _“This is unacceptable,”_ he thought, _“I’m supposed to be the host of the greatest interdimesional party in the multiverse.  We should be blowing the walls off of this place.  It’s time to have some real fun.”_  He floated from his chair facing his henchmaniacs.  "Hey guys, we can’t let this limited lifespan amalgamation of organs ruin our good time.  What do you say?  You ready to get this freak show going again?“    
  
The creatures who could smile and cheer did.  Xanthar stomped his feet.  Those who hid from bill’s fit of rage emerged, applauding.    
  
“Well here’s the main attraction!  Since he’s proven to be such a fragile weakling, how about I give him twice the pain but only half the damage?” Bill barked like a circus ringmaster presenting Ford in the spotlight.    
  
The audience replied with whoops of approval.  
  
Blue sparks crackled around Bill’s squinted eye.  Hoots and hollers thundered from the crowd of interdimensional creatures.  A blue beam shot forth from the demon’s eye, encompassing Ford’s body and ripping protests from his throat.    
  
“No!  No!  Noooo!”    
  
Stan pressed his back against the throne’s base, his legs barely holding him up.  He mashed his palms over his ears and gritted his teeth but could not block his brother’s scream as it echoed through the throne room.  A burning stench filled his nostrils; fiber and hair, singed by the electric current flowing through his brother’s body.  Stan glanced down at McGucket who’d clasped his hands over his ears while rocking back and forth.   _“Oh no,”_ thoughts pounded in his mind, _“The kids!  There’s no way they didn’t hear that!”_  He rushed to the alley behind the throne, bracing himself for the worst.  
  
Pacifica had slumped to her knees, her hands firmly pressed over her ears.  Her head hung low, hair draped beside her face as if she was trying to hide behind it.    
  
She flinched at the sound of Bill’s voice.    
  
“Ready to talk now?”    
  
Stan’s muscles tensed.  Crampelter’s abuse of his brother may have drawn rage from within him but he’d never felt anything quite like the flame currently burning in his chest, seeping through him as if his heart was pumping hot oil.    
  
Dipper expressed a fair amount of what he was trying to hold back.  It took both Soos and Sheriff Blubs to restrain him.  He fought against their arms with a force Stan thought even he, himself, was incapable of.  The wiry pre-teen bit at the hands trying to silence him and pulled his wrists from their grasp.    
  
From above, they heard Ford gasp, “I won’t. I won’t let you into my mind.”  
  
As nightmarish as the sight of Dipper’s struggling was, it paled in comparison to Mabel’s.  Her reaction mirrored Stan’s internal chaos almost identically.  She alternated between struggling against Wendy and falling limp in her arms, pressing her hands against her mouth to mute her sobs.    
  
“What do you think, pals? Another 500 volts?” Bill threatened with laughter in his voice.    
  
Dipper wriggled free from the adults’ arms and ran toward Stan, ready to shove him out of the way.  The the ground shook and he stumbled to a stop.    
  
The ground quaked again and the entire team crept out of hiding to investigate.        
  
“Hey did you hear that?” Bill questioned, searching for a source.    
  
With a blast, the head of a T-rex smashed through the triangular shaped entry, roaring and dripping drool across the stone floor.    
  
“What?!  I just fixed that door!”  Bill shouted as he surveyed the scene.  
  
Stan released the breath he’d been holding as he took in the sight of the Shacktron dominating the landscape beyond the massive hole in the wall.   _“‘Bout time”_ he thought.  He swept Dipper off of his feet and carried him back to the alley.  He set him down and bent to speak to him.  He motioned for Mabel and the other’s to join them.    
  
The rescue group collectively winced as Bill blustered, “So the mortals are trying to fight back, huh? Adorable! Henchmaniacs, you know what to do! Take them out!”  
  
In a raucous ramble, Bill’s lackeys charged through the gaping maw in the wall, ready to fight the Shacktron.  But Bill remained behind, watching the chaos unfold.  Grenda and Candy piloted the house-turned-robot masterfully.  As if in a boxing ring, the Shacktron dealt powerful punches to Pyronica and Kryptos.  It spun around shooting out a perfect ring of lasers.  The onslaught scattered Bill’s minions, sending them careening into mountains and burning trees.  
  
Kryptos stayed down for the time being.  He wasn’t up for this.   _“Let the others get beat up for a change,”_ he thought.  He didn’t care if they won or lost anymore.  He didn’t care if his contribution might have helped his so called friends.  In a way, he almost wanted to go back home.        
  
While the war erupted outside, the rescue team huddled behind the throne, listening to the rumbles, bangs, and blasts and anxiously hoping Bill would join the fray.  Mabel wiped her eyes and nose with her sweater sleeve and wrapped her arms around Stan’s neck.  Wendy and Soos leaned in, hoping to work out a plan.  Soos’ arm drew Dipper into the huddle despite his attempt to back away.  Pacifica held her head low, as she weakly clung to one of Sheriff Blub’s hands with both of hers.  He led her closer to the group, patting her back as an offering of comfort.  The normally upbeat sheriff appeared lost, as if he wasn’t sure what to feel.  McGucket hesitantly joined the huddle, his arms wrapped over Soos and Wendy’s shoulders.    
  
“What happened?  What’s going on?” Mabel questioned in a panicked whisper.   
  
“Shh.  Everything’s going to be OK now, Pumpkin,” Stan answered, patting her back.  He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, her or himself.    
  
Mabel nodded and released her death grip on Stan’s neck.  Wendy, Mcgucket, and Soos knelt but remained huddled close.    
  
Dipper continued his attempts to wriggle away from Soos’ grip.  "Soos let go of me!“    
  
Stan reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder, instantly halting his movement.  "Listen.  We’re no good to anyone if we rush out there and try to fight Bill with no plan.  We need to stay here and stay quiet until the others get his attention,” Stan explained to the group, “Then we’ll get my brother and get out of here.”  
  
“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper whispered, his shoulder shaking under Stan’s hand.  "What exactly happened?  What was going on out there?  What did Bill do to Great Uncle Ford?  Why was he…?“  Dipper couldn’t bare to say it, let alone think of his idol’s anguished howls.  
  
Stan paused, uncertain of how to answer.  He wanted to be honest with them but he didn’t want to mention too many unsavory details or taint their visions of their great uncle.  As much as he hated them seeing his brother as a genius hero, as much as he viewed him as a dangerous know-it-all, he didn’t deserve this.  With a sigh, he answered the best way he could think of, "Bill hurt him pretty bad.  For a minute there…  I thought…  I thought we’d lost him.”    
  
“Yeah it looked real bad at first,” Soos said, rubbing the back of his head.  "Sorry about haulin’ you dudes over here like that but uh…“  
  
"We’re not little kids anymore!”  Dipper protested, “Maybe we could have done something to help before Bill got back!  Before he hurt him again!”  
  
“Kid,” Stan pinched his nose, unsure of how to explain, “There was nothing we could have done back there _but_ wait for him to get back.”  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me!  We could have-”  Dipper’s voice steadily rose.  His fists balled at his sides and his arms trembled.    
  
“Shh.  I’m tellin’ ya, there was nothing-”  Stan’s whisper faded as he felt a tug at his coat sleeve.  Mabel.      
  
Her head was lowered, brown hair masking her face.  It parted as she raised her head.  Her cheeks were red and puffy and fresh tears welled up in her eyes, “Grunkle Ford was gone wasn’t he?”  
  
The question shot through Stan’s entire body leaving him cold and numb.  He lowered his head and answered, “Yes.”  
  
“And Bill brought him back…” Mabel whispered, her dampened sleeve pressed against her right eye.    
  
“Wait…  are you seriously saying that Bill can control life and death?” Dipper asked with wide eyes.    
  
“Apparently,” Stan breathed, barely able to grasp the concept.      
  
Dipper stood frozen in place, “That’s…”  
  
“Completely terrifying.”  Wendy finished his sentence.  
  
“Yes.  That’s why These guys,” Stan explained, pointing to Soos, Wendy, and Sheriff Blubs,“ Were trying to protect you kids.    
  
"Is Grunkle Ford going to be Alright?” Mabel asked, craning her neck to look for him but unable to spot him.    
  
“I…  I don’t know,” Stan admitted, “Ugh Why hasn’t that Dumb triangle left yet?”  
  
A deafening rumble shook the Fearamid and Bill huffed, “Guys, seriously? You had, like, one job to do here.”  
  
“Bravo, Dipper and Mabel!”  Ford cheered.    
  
“But that’s not us fighting out there, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel sniffled, worrying about her friends.  
  
“Yeah but if it wasn’t for you guys, we might still be cowering in the shack,” Wendy said, elbowing her playfully, “It’s pretty cool that he has so much faith in you two.”      
  
Bill’s taunting silenced the girls, “Well, would you look at that. Those kids really care about you. And you care about them,” his voice deepened to a nightmarish register, “Don’t you?”  
  
“What are you…?”  The rescue team could practically hear the moment Ford’s heart ripped in half.  "Oh. Oh no.“  
  
"Perhaps torturing those kids’ll make you talk,” Bill threatened.    
  
Stan draped himself over the kids protectively.  They clung to him, hoping the demon didn’t somehow know they were right there, listening to him.      
  
“No. No!”  Ford pleaded.  
  
Stan couldn’t remember his brother ever sounding so desperate, not even when the portal took hold of him.    
  
“Not the kids! You ca-”  Ford’s voice cut off sending a cold shiver through Stan’s body.  
  
Bill floated through the hole in the wall, poised to attack the Shacktron.  The rescue team watched apprehensively as he raised a giant fist to attack.  
  
“No…” Mabel’s hands covered her mouth.  
  
His fist hurtled downward and smashed against the barrier protecting the shack.  The entire team let out sighs of relief as the barrier held up to his tumultuous barrage.  The Shacktron and its crew remained completely unscathed thanks to the shield Mabel, Dipper, and Ford had created.  Dipper patted his sister’s back, “It worked!  Thanks to you and Wendy and your friends…  they’re safe in there.”  
  
“And thanks to you and Grunkle Ford coming up with that shield plan,” She smiled and patted her brother’s shoulder.    
  
Bill paused and the T-rex head thrust forward, it’s jaws clamping down on the demon’s eye.  The rescue team cringed as it pulled back, ripping Bill’s eye from its socket.    
  
“Aah! My eye! Do you have any idea how long it takes to regenerate that?”  Bill floated haphazardly backwards.    
  
“Now’s our chance!”  Dipper said, signaling to Mabel.  The two bolted forward, the rest of the team on their heels.      
  
Mabel pulled out her grappling hook and aimed for the throne.  The hook caught securely on Manly Dan’s stone arm.    
  
Before anyone could stop her, she pulled the trigger and ascended.  She spotted her great uncle and shouted, “I see him!  He’s golden.  But not in the good way!” she shouted and tossed her grappling hook down to Dipper.  
  
“Great!  Let’s get him out of here,” Stan said with a relieved breath.    
  
“How are we going to unfreeze him?” Dipper asked, picking up the grappling hook.  He reeled himself up and landed beside Mabel.  He looked up to the arm of the throne where the man he admired was displayed like a trophy.  The twins stared wide-eyed at their great uncle’s desperate pose, his arm outstretched, half trying to stop Bill, half begging him to leave his family alone.  They blinked back tears as his praise and pleas for their safety echoed in their minds.      
  
“I know how to unfreeze them!”  Gideon yelled from his cage.  
  
“Gideon,” Mabel gasped, “What happened to you?”  
  
“No time!  Just pull out Mayor Tyler!  He’s the load bearing human.  Pull him out and the whole thing goes down.”  
  
Dipper tugged at Mayor Tyler’s rigid arm.  He rattled loose from the structure, flesh replacing stone as the boy peeled him away.  The throne crumbled, each figure unfreezing as they tumbled free.  The collapse jarred Gideon’s cage, bringing it down alongside the throne.    
  
At first, moans and complaints emanated from the pile of freed townsfolk.    
  
“Ugh, my mouth tastes like nightmares,” Lazy Susan moaned.  
  
“I think I’m dark and tortured for reals now” Robbie added, tumbling down the pile and falling on his head.    
  
As they crawled away from the pile and stumbled to their feet, the citizens began smiling and greeting each other as if they’d been separated for decades.  Friends and family reunited with hugs and laughter. Wendy and her family hugged.  She had never been so happy to see her father and brothers before.  Pacifica crashed into her parents arms, teary eyed, probably more dark and tortured than Robbie claimed to be, and simply glad to find her family alive.    
  
Blubs spotted Durland lying nearby, not fully conscious yet.  The overjoyed sheriff shouted out to him, “Durland!”  He lifted his deputy’s head off the cold ground, cradling him, and cried, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”  
  
Ford was the last to unfreeze, gold melting away from his pleading posture to reveal flesh.  He glanced around in a moment of pure fear, wondering what Bill had done to his family.  It melted into unbridled joy as he spotted the kids looking up to him, wet checks stretched by their enormous smiles.    
  
“Kids!  You did it!  I knew I could count on you two!  Ha Ha!” He bent and pulled them into his arms, mustering the strength to lift them both.    
  
Mabel fought the urge to clamp her arms around him, concerned she might accidentally hurt him.  Instead, she gently rested her head on his shoulder, her arms loosely hugging his neck.  Before she could stop it, a flood of sobs and hiccups sprang forth.    
  
Mabel’s emotional deluge triggered Dipper’s.  His arms circled around his great uncle’s neck, resting atop Mabel’s.  He buried his face in his great uncle’s shoulder, his body shaking with gasps between sobs.    
  
Ford’s smile faded to a half-concerned, half-inquisitive expression.  He glanced up to find his brother staring at him as if he wasn’t real.    
  
Before Ford could ask any questions, Stan threw his arms around him, hugging him tighter than he intended but unable to hold back.    
  
Ford’s eyes winced despite his best efforts to hide the sting of his sweater being pressed against his burned and bruised skin.  Stan’s arms loosened around him as if sensing his discomfort yet Ford wished they hadn’t.  It had been so long since someone had hugged him, he was uncertain of how to react and hated himself for tensing up.  Pain be damned, he just wanted to enjoy his family and the first sign of physical affection he’d experienced in decades.  He felt another pair of arms wrap around his waist and glanced down.  Fiddleford!  His heart pounded.   _“Does this mean he doesn’t hate me?”_ he wondered.    
  
Before he could inquire, more people piled on.  The red-haired cashier from the shop he’d heard people refer to as Wendy wrapped her arms partly around Stan and Dipper and partly around him, her hand resting on his back.  The handyman, Soos, whom he remembered from the basement on the day he’d returned from the portal circled his arms around Mabel, McGucket, and Stan, his broad hand resting near the girl’s smaller one on Ford’s back.  A man who was apparently the sheriff, judging by his uniform, hugged his waist, his arms wrapped above Fiddleford’s.  Finally a little blond girl he’d never met before meekly wrapped herself around his right leg and the boy who’d been tormented in a cage beside him clung to his left.    
  
“Wh- What’s going on?” he stuttered in complete confusion.  
  
“We thought…” Dipper sniffled.  
  
“Thought ‘nuthin,” Stan sputtered, stepping back and resting his fists on his waist like an angry parent, “Stanford Filbrick Pines, you were dead!  We come in here to rescue you and instead I find you…!”  He pinched his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead.  “Look.”  He pointed at Ford, “I’m still mad at you.  But no one messes with my family like that and gets away with it.  Whatever it is you know about him, the weakness or whatever, you gotta tell us so we can stop him.”      
  
Several pairs of arms withdrew from around Ford.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d been relying on them to hold him upright.  He knelt, placing the kids carefully on their feet and finding his legs temporarily too exhausted to lift himself back up again.  He gave in and sat on the ground staring up at his brother, his face flushed of any color, limbs numb.  Mortified, he stuttered, “S-Stanley…  What…  Exactly how much did you and the kids see…?”  
  
“We’ll talk about that later.  Right now, we gotta focus on that!”  Stan gestured to the battlefield beyond the hole in the wall where Bill was quickly regenerating his eye despite the Shacktron’s best efforts to maul him.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will things work out differently in the final showdown now that Stan has seen exactly what his brother was up against? Determined to do whatever it takes to defeat Bill, will Stan burn like his effigies or will he become the fire?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the tumblr version has an illustration if you'd like to see](http://skillfulstudio.tumblr.com/post/142919968408/behind-the-facade-pt-3-of-4)

Beyond the crumbling gap in the fearamid’s wall, the world burned and quaked.  The Shacktron railed against Bill, yet not a single blow damaged the demon as he floated within a glassy blue shield, his eye regenerating rapidly.  His henchmaniacs had been scattered across the valley.  Xanthar was knocked out in a smoking crater stamped into the earth by his impact.  Pyronica was draped over the cliff beside the ascending stream of blood which had replaced the town’s namesake waterfall.  Teeth flailed, attempting to release himself from beneath a landslide of rubble.  As for Kryptos, he laid still on his back opening his eye barely enough to peek through every so often.  He considered rejoining the fight, perhaps attempting some form of heroism but why?  Sure they’d chant his name for a bit until they decided he should do something embarrassing like guzzle time punch until he said something stupid and passed out.  Nah.  It was better to bide his time until the others regained consciousness.  He didn’t fancy a T-rex biting off one of his stringy limbs.          
  
****  
  
Within Bill’s castle, unfrozen citizens looked to Stanford and his family for a plan.  
  
Stanford, however, was still reeling from what his brother had said.    
  
_“You were dead.”  
  
_ The phrase echoed in his mind.  His thoughts collided in a garbled mixture of interdimensional languages.   _“He- He found me… dead?!  How bad was it?”_ His hand tangled into his hair as he tried to remember.   _“Bad…  that doesn’t even begin to describe it!  If he was here to see that, then that means he saw…  Oh no!_ _Stanley and the kids…  The kids!  Don’t tell me they saw too.  Did I scream?  Did they hear it?  They…  they were crying…  Was that because…  because of ME?!  No no no…  They should be smiling and happy…  Not frightened for their lives!  They should never have been exposed to what that monster is capable of!”_  He stared wide-eyed at his brother and stuttered, “S-Stanley…  What…  Exactly how much did you and the kids see…?”  
  
“We’ll talk about that later.  Right now, we gotta focus on that!”  Stan gestured to the battlefield beyond the hole in the wall where Bill was quickly regenerating his eye despite the Shacktron’s best efforts to maul him.    
  
His hands slid between his glasses and his swollen eyes, cradling his face.   _“_ _I was supposed to stay away from the kids - to keep them away from this!  From me!  And I got them involved anyway.  Hell, I outright asked Dipper to stay here and help me!  Why?  Stanley was right about me.  I **am** a dangerous… no.  I may be dangerous but I’m definitely not a ‘know-it-all’.  More like a know-nothing-gullible-idiot!  I just couldn’t suck it up and figure things out myself could I?  No I had to involve a child… because…  because he made me feel like I wasn’t so alone anymore.  Like maybe I wasn’t such a complete screw up.  And after that dream…  I got Mabel involved too!  I never should have talked to the kids about Bill whether they’ve dealt with him before or not.  But…  they needed to know, for their own safety.  I didn’t know they’d faced him before.  I was just going to warn them not to trust him!  And… and that was…  That was when I thought we had things under control.  If I’d thought we didn’t, I would have sent them away!”  
_  
He could handle the pain.  He could handle the public humiliation.  He could handle his brother being angry at him  (Why wouldn’t he be?  He’d never told him about any of this.  It was better that way right?  " _Better he be angry at me than angry at something he could get himself killed trying to fight".)_  And though it wrung his heart in a way he’d never felt before, he could handle keeping some distance between the kids and himself, never having a bond with them like they had with his brother.  But for his family to see behind the facade he’d built, to truly know the horrors he’d been facing, and to have become so deeply involved with his mistakes, was too much.  In that moment, all he wanted was for them to be safe.  The kids back home with their parents, attending school and going out with friends.  His brother somewhere far from the dangers in Gravity Falls.  And all of them happily living their lives without being burdened by their disaster of a family member and the apocalypse he’d initiated.    
  
_“Why didn’t I demand they leave right away?”_ he cursed himself.   _“They’d all be safe then.  Everything would still be contained here and they’d never even have known about it, never have had to have seen such violence…  So many horrors… and and…  And I’d still be chained up…  Doing absolutely nothing useful to stop this mess.  Or…  or somewhere on another planet.  Or still stuck in another dimension.  Oh Stanford, Bill’s right about you.  You’re a useless fool.  You’re not only a failure at everything other people can do easily, y_ _ou couldn’t even do the one thing you thought you could be good at without screwing that up too._ _And now these people are looking at you like you’re going to help them when you’re the reason they’re all in this mess.”_    
  
Dipper’s voice pulled him from his whirlpool of thoughts.  “Grunkle Stan’s right.  We can talk about things later.  Right now we have to figure out how to stop Bill.  You said you know his weakness.”  
  
“Yeah, a secret way to defeat him?”  Mabel added.    
  
He breathed in, counting to six then breathed out, counting to ten to quell his catastrophic thoughts, to prop up whatever remained of his facade.  Whether he felt capable or not, these people were counting on him.  He couldn’t let everything crumble when there was still a chance.  And Dipper was right.  He did know a way.  It was a long shot and a risky last-ditch effort but anything was worth a try.  But could he really involve so many others?  Put their lives on the line alongside his own?  There was no choice.  Another breath cleared the exhaustion lapping at the edges of his consciousness.  He plastered on a smile, looked up, and answered, “I-I do.”  He rubbed his forehead, trying to refocus, “Does anyone have a pen, pencil, anything?”  
  
“Uh, there’s a pen in your pocket…” Mabel pointed, letting a giggle escape despite her watery eyes.  
  
“Oh yes of course there is,” he laughed, more for her sake than his, and joked, “A bit of advice…  Don’t get old, kids.”  
  
“Ha, glad to know it’s not just me,” Stan grunted.    
  
Ford reached for his pen then shook his head, “On second thought…  that will never work.  I think we need something like chalk or paint.”  
  
“Um, I got this.”  A teen boy in a black hoodie shook a can of spray paint and handed it to Ford.  
  
“Yes!  That will work perfectly,” He said, grunting on the “ly” as he lifted himself to his feet.  He shook the can and began spraying a circle on the floor about ten feet in diameter.    
  
“Um, Great Uncle Ford…  we don’t have a lot of time.” Dipper said as he watched Bill spring free from his protective shield, his eye completely healed.  
  
“That’s it, he’s lost his mind,” Stan huffed as he watched Ford paint a second circle around the first.    
  
“My mind is fine.  This is the way to defeat him,” he assured them, or perhaps himself.    
  
“A circle of cryptic occult graffiti?”  Pacifica asked as Ford added Bill’s image to the center.  
  
“No, though it does rather look like something the Illuminati would dream up…  Ugh,” he shuddered, “and people say I’m weird.  But no, I found this array painted on the wall of a cave beneath the town and began researching its meaning.  I discovered that it was a prophecy.  The ancient beings believed this zodiac would one day defeat Bill.  Each symbol represents a human quality.  When those who possess said qualities join hands around the circle, it creates a human energy circuit strong enough to seal Bill in his own dimension once and for all.  I spent years researching what qualities the symbols represent but even with that part of the puzzle solved, I had no idea who possessed all of them.  Some I recognized back then, others I’m just learning now.  Like you, Stanley.”  He shot a quick burst of paint out, forming a dot to represent food near a fish’s mouth.  “You’re the fish seeking food.  The determined.”    
  
“A question mark,” Soos said, watching the symbol sprayed out, “Dudes, this one’s a mystery.”    
  
“The problem solver,” Ford said, “One who wishes to help others.”    
  
“Ha!” Wendy patted Soos’s back, “That’s you all right Mr Handyman.”    
  
“Ice?” Dipper read the letters as Ford added the last stroke to the “E”.  “Who’s ice?!”  
  
“The unshakable.  Someone who is cool in the face of danger,” Ford said.      
  
“Wendy!  Wendy!  Wendy!” Tambry, Thompson, Lee, and Nate cheered.    
  
“And this one is you, Dipper.”  Ford nodded to his great-nephew as his wrist flicked, forming the branches of the pine tree.  “You’re the protector.”    
  
“Me?”  
  
“Of course.  You’ve risked your own safety for the ones you love on more than one occasion from what I’ve seen and heard.  Heck you did that for me when you saved me from that alien droid!” he said, still not convinced he had been worth saving but trying to praise his great nephew despite it.  He couldn’t indulge the conflicting feelings _that_ created.  Not now.  "If your choice of hat wasn’t proof enough of your place in the circle, that certainly is.“  
  
Mabel elbowed Dipper, “You do get awfully protective even if I end up saving you sometimes.”  
  
“Next is the glasses,” Ford said as he painted the lenses, “For the scholar.”  He looked up, searching for his former assistant.  “Fiddleford.  My old friend.  You must hate me.  I’m so sorry for everything.  Can you ever forgive me?”  
  
Fiddleford tapped his bearded chin and said, “You know, I tried forgettin’  But now it’s time to remember and try fixin’ things while we’ve still got a chance.”  He held out his arms.  Ford smiled and accepted the forgiving hug from his friend.  
  
“Ugh!  This is no time for gross old man hugs,” Pacifica crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose.  
  
Ford patted McGucket’s shoulder with a grateful nod then set to painting the next symbol.    
  
“Wait, is that a llama?” Pacifica asked, watching the swirls of Ford’s hand form the furry creature.  
  
“Indeed.  The noble.  Someone who’s trying to do the right thing,” said Ford.  
  
“But how is that me?” Pacifica asked, holding out her sweater to stare at it, “this is freaky.”    
  
“You are trying to do the right thing.  You stood up to your parents and you still love them even though they were kind of terrible to you.”  Dipper eyed the Northwests.    
  
“The next one is you, Mabel.”  Ford painted the last point on the shooting star.  “You’re the optimist.”  He tapped her nose lovingly.  “Even ancient prophets knew that you’re a good person.”  
  
Mabel’s smile faded to a frown, “No I’m not.  I’m the reason Bill was able to get here.  I’m the reason he hurt you,” her head pounded and her eyes burned, “It’s my fault all of this happened!”  
  
“Mabel?”  Dipper raised an eyebrow, “That’s right, you had my backpack.  The rift!  I was so worried about you when it broke.”  
  
“It was my fault it broke!”  Mabel admitted.  “I don’t even know what that thing was but Bill tricked me into giving it to him and he broke it!“    
  
“It was a rift between dimensions,” Dipper explained, “created when Grunkle Stan used the portal to bring Grunkle Ford back.  We were trying to contain it.”  
  
“Wait!”  Stan stared wide-eyed at his brother.  “Is he sayin’ that because I turned on that crazy machine of yours, it caused all this?”  
  
Ford opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t.  With sagging shoulders and his back hunched he finally found the right words, "No Stanley.  This isn’t your fault.  It’s mine for wanting to build that blasted portal in the first place.”  He turned to his great niece, brows furrowed in worry.   “Mabel, what did Bill do to you?  Did he hurt you?”  he asked, edging toward her, his hand outstretched as if approaching a frightened kitten.  
  
“He Possessed Blendin and offered me a way to stop summer from ending for a while.  He asked for that thing in exchange then he broke it and I passed out.  I woke up in that dream world and and,“ she sniffled,” I was going to just stay there forever and replace all of you with my stupid dream versions of you!  I’m a _horrible_ person!  I’m so sorry.  It’s all my fault!”  She turned, trying to run.  
  
Dipper caught her by the shoulder, spun her to face him, and wrapped his arms around her.  “Mabel!  No you’re not.  And no it isn’t.  Bill tricked me too, remember?”  
  
“But you didn’t hand over his way into our universe and get Grunkle Ford captured and-”  Mabel rambled through fresh tears.    
“Mabel.”  Ford knelt and cupped her cheeks gently, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.  “You are not to blame.”  He attempted to wrap his arms around her.  His breath snagged as she pulled away, looking up to him with raw hurt in her eyes.  
  
“Yes I am!  I was sad and angry and not thinking because… because on top of everything else that was going to change you tried to take my brother away from me!”  Her hands clamped over her mouth, “I didn’t mean that!”  
  
“No…  It’s alright.“  Ford rested his arm on his knee.  “At the time, I really had hoped he would take my apprenticeship.  To be honest, it had been so long since I’d been able to truly trust or connect with anyone that I didn’t want to lose it.  I guess, in much the same way you didn’t want to lose him.”  
  
Dipper patted Mabel’s back and admitted, “I’m sorry, Mabel, but the truth is, I was willing to stay here because…  Well I kind of already told you.  You and Grunkle Stan make fun of me all the time.  Grunkle Ford made me feel like the things I like are worth liking.”  
  
“I’m sorry…  I’m sorry…  Celestabellebethabelle was right about me!  I am terrible!”  
  
“Oh Mabel, if making mistakes and having feelings makes you a terrible person then I must be the worst,” Ford said, “You weren’t the one who summoned Bill in the first place.  You weren’t the one who felt so insecure that you trusted a demon’s flattery.  You had no idea what the rift was because I was trying to deal with it without involving you and Stanley.  I’d like to say I was trying to protect you and while that is true, it’s more complicated than that.  And besides, you do so many things right and you mean well all the time and that’s what really counts.  I did truly believe you were capable of great things on your own, Mabel.  I mean, unicorn hair?  I’m still not sure how you and your friends managed that.“  He held out his hand to her, “You’re not terrible.  You’re human and that’s wonderful.”  
  
Mabel fell forward into his arms, pulling Dipper with her.      
  
“I’m sorry I asked you to keep this all a secret, Dipper.”  Ford hugged the twins tightly.  “Can you two ever forgive me?”    
  
“Yes, of course,” Dipper answered.  
  
“Already have,” Mabel added, her face pressed into Ford’s shoulder, hand clutching his coat.    
  
“Thank you.”  He loosened his grip and ruffled the twins’ hair.  
  
“Hey this is real sweet an’ all but um,” Stan interrupted, pointing at the Shacktron as Bill caught the T-rex head with his hand and landed an ineffective punch to the shield surrounding the shack.  “I don’t know how much longer Mabel’s friends can hold him off.”    
  
Ford nodded and set to work again, his hand beginning to protest the pressure needed to hold down the spray can’s nozzle.  
  
“Hey that’s my Tent of Telepathy symbol!” Gideon pointed to the star spilling out of the can.    
  
“The repentant.  Someone seeking redemption,” Ford explained, adding the pupil to the eye in the star’s center.    
  
“Hey, that kind of is you,” Dipper said with a shrug.  
  
“Yeah, Dipper told me what you did to help him,” Mabel said, “Don’t read into this too far but…  Thanks.”  
  
“Oh I won’t,” Gideon waved his hands then turned and whispered to himself, “I will.”  
  
“Ha!”  Wendy laughed as Ford slashed paint through the center of the heart he’d added to the zodiac.  “That one’s easy.  You’ve been edgy on purpose with that hoodie since middle school,” she shoved Robbie forward.  
  
“Whoa.  Destiny hoodie.  What does it mean?”  Robbie asked in a breathy voice.    
  
“You represent the lover,” Ford answered, “Sensitive and passionate.”    
  
Robbie blushed bright red as Thompson, Lee, and Nate pointed at him and laughed.  He managed an awkward smile as Tambry looked up from her phone to wave and wink at him.      
  
“And lastly, my symbol.”  Ford joined the lines of the six fingered hand together at the palm.  “The anomaly.”        
  
“Uh!  Great Uncle Ford…”  Mabel’s voice quaked.  
  
“Oh man, I think we’re almost out of time.  Get in place everyone, quick!  Everyone else, run!”  Dipper commanded, watching in horror as Bill toppled the Shacktron and tore at its unshielded leg.  The crowd split into two, those who held a place in the zodiac and those who had been instructed to escape.  Sheriff Blubs led the recently unfrozen residents ran to a triangular shaped opening in the back wall.  Thanks to Manly Dan, ropes unfurled through it and the citizens shimmied down to relative safety.    
  
“There’s one last thing you all need to know!”  Ford shouted to the zodiac group over the clamor of citizens fleeing the fearamid.  “This only works if he doesn’t have a physical form.”    
  
“If he gains physical form then all is lost,” Dipper quoted his great uncle’s journal.  “That’s just great.  We’ve done this for nothing, then!  He already has a physical form.”  
  
“I know,” Ford interrupted, “But I have a plan.  I’m going to take his deal.  When he enters my mind, you have to destroy the stone form he leaves behind.  He’ll only take a few moments to regenerate but it will be enough time to form the energy circuit and send him back to his own dimension.”  
  
“What is it he’s ‘a tryin’a get from you with that deal anyway?” Fiddleford asked, “I finally remembered the last time you made a deal with him and ugh,” he shuddered.      
  
Ford lowered his head and said, “He wants the equation to dismantle the barrier containing Weirdmageddon to Gravity Falls.”  
  
“Whoa wait a minute.”  Stan cut the air with his hand.  “You’re telling us that you were tortured and,” he gulped, nearly choking on the word, ”killed because you were trying to stop him from destroying the world?”  
  
“Universe, Grunkle Stan.”  Dipper tugged at his coat.    
  
"To fix my mistakes,” Ford sighed.  
  
“Your mistakes nothin’!”  Fiddleford snorted, “That demon would’ve done anything to get into this world.  If he hadn’t ‘a  
gotten to you, he’d'ave found someone else!  Maybe someone who would’ve sided with him.”  
  
Stan massaged his eyes with one hand, his glasses tipping up.  “You know, for a genius you can be really oblivious sometimes,” Stan said, crossing his arms.  “I don’t know how you thought it was a good idea for you and Dipper to try and deal with all of this-”  
  
“Yes…  I know, Stanley, and I’m sorry.”  Ford sighed, “You asked me to stay away from the kids and I involved them anyway…”  
  
“Can it Poindexter,“ Stan said, provoking a round-eyed look of confusion from his brother, "That’s pretty much the opposite of what I’m tryin’ to say.  I’m saying, you could have come to me too.  You could have been upfront with us about this.  You could have told me exactly what you were up against.”  
  
Ford raised an eyebrow.  “But you said…”  
  
“I know what I said and,” Stan paused, “and you should have known I was just being a cranky old man.”  
  
Ford half-smiled, “You mean like how you so clearly knew I was temporarily being a temperamental curmudgeon with my knee-jerk reaction to you stealing my identity?”  
  
"Sure, like how you should know that when I call you a nerd I’m-!”  
  
“Uh, Guys.  I think the word you’re both looking for is sorry,” Mabel whispered, tugging at their sleeves.    
  
“Argh,” Stan huffed, “Look, I know I’m a screw up.  I screwed up by not telling you about the accident with your project.  I screwed up worse when you called me for help.  Apparently I even screwed up the screw up by rescuing you from sci-fi side burn land.  And now I’ve screwed up again by making you feel like you had to keep doing things alone.  I tried to go it alone too and it got me banned from more states than not and arrested more times than I want to think of.  We’ve both tried to take on too much alone.  But thanks to these guys,” Stan said, placing one hand on Dipper’s shoulder and one on Mabel’s, “I realized it’s better if you work through things together, even if it’s not easy.  Look, It’s okay that you asked for help.  It’s okay to need help.  But you tried to shut me out again so…  So I shut you out.  You gotta…  You gotta promise me we’re not gonna do this anymore!  We’ve all made some mistakes but we’re still family.”  Stan took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, hands clenched in fists at his sides, “After all you went through to keep whatever it is you know away from that demonic corn chip, I’m not lettin’ you let him anywhere near it.”  
  
“Stanley, there’s no other way,” Ford said, his shoulders sagging.  “He’s only weak if-”    
  
“No.  You can’t let him into your mind.  I know you’re a big picture kind of guy and sometimes I’m not on the same page as you but this time I get it.  From what I can figure, if he gets what he needs from you and we mess up, things will be worse than ever.  Besides, I’ve already seen what he does to you without being in your head.  I ain’t lettin’ him near you again,“ Stan insisted, cracking his knuckles.  
  
“Stanley…”  Ford blinked, searching his mind for a counter argument but finding none.  Whether he liked it or not, his brother had a point.  
  
“Look, you’re trying to set things right.  Well, I was too until I got all bent out of shape because you wouldn’t thank me.  I get why you couldn’t now.  Please, Stanford.  Let me help you.  Give me a chance to be something other than a screw up.”  
  
“Stanley, you’re not a screw up,” he sighed, his voice hoarse and cracking, “I am.”  
  
“Guys!”  Mabel interrupted, “This is no time to try to one-up each other over who messed up more!”  
  
“Mabel’s right,” Ford admitted, “And anyway, It’s not about that…  I- I know what Bill does to people.”  
  
“Oh sure and I don’t?  Stanford, I’m gonna have nightmares about what he did to you for the rest 'a my life!  I get it.”  In his fuzzy peripheral vision, Stan caught a glimpse of a yellow blob floating closer to the fearamid’s busted entry.  "We’re out of time.  He’s comin’ back.  I got a plan to get him to go into my mind instead of yours.  I just need you to trust me and play along, like when we were kids, alright?”  
  
“A-alright,“ Ford said, unable to muster anything else past the thought of burdening his brother with his ordeal, "We need to draw his attention away from the zodiac.”  
  
“Leave that to us Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, brandishing her grappling hook.  
  
“Kids, no!”  Stan and Ford yelled in unison.    
  
“We’ve fought Bill before.  We can do it again!”  Dipper assured them, “You two act like you’re trying to get away with the others.  Mabel and I will lure him over to you.  Everyone else, hide!”    
  
With Bill looming nearer and no other options at hand, the elder twins ran for the opening at the back of the fearamid.  Mayor Tyler and Manly Dan were the last to duck out and shimmy down the ropes.  The kids braced themselves as Bill floated back inside.  
  
“Oh no!  Hurry!  He’s back!”  Dipper’s shout was a little stiff and melodramatic but effective in drawing Bill’s attention to him.  
  
“Get going quick!”  Mabel’s acting was only slightly better than her brother’s.  
  
“WHAT?!  Why are you two in here?!”  Bill roared, “And where do you think you’re going Fordsy?!“  
  
Red arms snaked up from the floor coiling around the Stan twins and yanking them down to their knees.    
  
"Ugh.  I leave for a few minutes and you pests sneak in and ruin everything!”  He grabbed the twins in one hand lifting them up to his eye.  “I’ll admit it was cleaver using that robot as a diversion but you’re too late.  Hey Stanford!  You going to let me into your head yet or do I need to make some kids into corpses?  Maybe I’ll kill one of ‘em right now for the heck of it.  Eenie, meenie, minee-”  With each word Bill’s eye reflected the twin’s symbols, alternating between the pine tree and shooting star.        
  
Ford awaited Stan’s plan, his uncertainty over what he should be doing giving him a strikingly convincing deer-in-the-headlights expression.    
  
Stan laughed.  Bill paused, his eye set on the shooting star symbol.  Stan’s laughter intensified, drawing Bill’s attention to him.    
  
“What exactly is so funny about this?!”  Bill glowed red momentarily.    
  
Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances, wondering what their great uncle was playing at.  
  
“Oh sorry sorry.  I just think it’s hilarious that you fell for my brother’s trick,” Stan said.  
  
“And just what trick is that?”  Bill snorted.    
  
The arms restraining the older twins retracted.  Stan stood and held his hand out to Ford to help him up.  He wrapped his arm over Ford’s shoulder, momentarily forgetting his injuries, squishing a stifled yelp from him and a sickened flip-flop from his own stomach.  Yet without faltering, he loosened his grip and continued his act.  “The one where you believed him when he said he knew how to break the barrier just because he’s got the reputation of being the smarter twin.”    
  
“W-What?  Of course he knows how to take it down!”  Bill’s eye focused on Ford.    
  
"Stanley, what are you doing, don’t tell him that,” Ford whispered just loud enough for Bill to hear and elbowed Stan, improvising the best he could.    
  
“Ha ha!  He really had you going didn’t he?“  Stan slapped his knee as he laughed.  "I didn’t think he had it in him to set up something like this.”    
  
“What are you talking about?”  Bill squinted.    
  
“My brother lied to you.  He doesn’t know nothin’ about any barrier.  He did a pretty good job of tricking you into focusing on gettin’ the answer out of him.  Gotta say I’m proud of him.”  Stan’s tone turned grim.  He patted the side of Ford’s head, eliciting an annoyed sideways glare from him.  “He sacrificed a lot to give us time to come up with a way to defeat you.  And you fell for it all!”  
  
“No.  Ha ha.  No way.  This nerd’s too gullible for something like that!”  Bill pointed at Ford.  
  
“You think so?”  Ford folded his arms across his chest.  “Thirty years of dimension hopping is bound to change a man.”  He impressed himself with the steadiness of his voice as he ad-libbed.  It had been a lifetime since he and Stan had pulled off shenanigans like this.  It felt rather nostalgic, exciting almost, if not for the panic over the kids’ safety tightening his chest.      
  
“Yeah.  You wanna know who does have what you need?  This guy,” Stan pointed to himself.  
  
Bill laughed, clutching his blocky midsection.  “You want me to believe you know the equation?”  
  
“Equation?”  Stan raised an eyebrow.  "Oh man!  My brother really had you mixed up, didn’t he?!  That’s not anything near what it is.”    
  
“How…  No it doesn’t make any sense.” Bill rubbed his eye, “There’s no way a dim-witted schmuck like you knows anything…”  
  
“Hey!” The word fell out of Ford’s mouth before he could stop it.  Without thinking, more tumbled after, “Don’t insult my brother.  He’s capable of more than you think!”  Realizing he’d come incredibly close to giving away their plan he added, “He’s been successfully running a business for thirty years and he must have done a lot right because those kids outright admire him…”    
  
“Yeah!”  Stan cut him off, as he always had when his brother started rambling a little too close to giving things away to their parents.  “You know I spent all those years studying my brother’s journals and learning about stupid physics and code breaking.  I managed to fix that cockamamie portal of his on my own, right?  It might have taken several decades but I’m a stubborn old codger and I figured it out!  Plus, I spent more'n three times as long living in this weirdo town than my brother did, and you think I didn’t learn a trick or two?  So if you’re lookin’ to make a deal, you’re gonna have to deal with me.”  
  
“Well if that’s the case, what is it you want?  Money?  Fame?”  A dollar sign flashed in Bill’s eye followed by a star then a whirlpool of stars.  "Your own galaxy?“    
  
“My family.  You leave them alone and I’ll let you into my head,” Stan demanded.    
  
“Fine.  It’s a deal.”  He loosened his grip on the kids.  
  
“Aaah!” they screamed together as they tumbled to the ground.  Ford rushed forward, breaking their fall but slumping to the ground under their weight, wincing as his weathered body protested.      
  
Bill shrank until he stood a mere 4 feet tall and floated toward Stan with his hand extended.  Blue flames engulfed it as he awaited the binding handshake.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Weirdmageddon and the final showdown with Bill leave some scars but some even older scars need to be tended to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the tumblr version has an illustration if you's like to see](http://skillfulstudio.tumblr.com/post/143606282138/behind-the-facade-pt-4-of-4)

The sleepy town of Gravity Falls, nestled between the mountains of Oregon, no longer existed.  In it’s place, a burning battlefield sprawled beneath a gaping tear in the sky.  A monolithic pyramid cast its shadow over the scarred terrain.  Charred spindles, once majestic pines, creaked and cracked in the wind and fell into flames.  Smoke hung over the valley, reflecting the orange flickering from below.  
       
Candy, Grenda, and the battle team had fought valiantly against the invading army of nightmares and demons.  But Bill won.  He had toppled the Shacktron and tore off its unshielded leg.  It tumbled backward, punching a crater in the earth below.  The crew crawled out from beneath the wreckage, battered and bruised but not broken.  They huddled together in the smoking crater as Bill’s henchmaniacs regained consciousness and surrounded them.  Even Kryptos, upon seeing the others closing in on their enemies, decided to join in.  Better to go along with things than look like the one weak team member.  He picked a nice middle ground as the fourth henchmaniac to rejoin the fray.  He laughed to himself at beating Pyronica and Xanthar to it.    
  
Somewhere in his mindscape, he wondered what became of the human Bill had chained up back in his fortress.  If Bill truly was controlling the damage inflicted upon the mortal’s body thanks to his little prank, he wondered how long it would be before he broke without any more reprieve from the boss’s onslaught.  Oh who was he kidding.  Bill would have another tantrum at some point and accidentally go too far again.  As much as Bill knew how to wring screams from the three dimensional life form, the human seemed to have a pretty good grasp on how to jab at Bill right back.  And while he questioned the sensibility of the human for provoking the boss, it was rather fun to watch the results and, in a way, he almost admired the flesh sack’s defiance, almost wished he could be so equally brave and reckless.          
  
****      
  
Inside Bill’s fortress, the chaos god floated in front of Stan with his hand extended, ready to make the deal he believed would unleash his terror on the universe.  Stan stared at Bill’s outstretched hand, engulfed in blue flame.  He swallowed the lump of panic at the thought of his plan failing before reaching out to seal their deal.  With a hand steadied by years of cons, he gripped the demon’s hand and shook.  
   
Bill’s physical form hardened to stone as his ethereal one rose from it, a luminescent yellow radiating from him.  Stan’s eyes followed him as he ascended then widened in horror as the light twisted and dove toward them.    
  
The kids buried their faces in Ford’s sweater as Stan slumped to his knees, his eyes blank aside from the yellow glow reflecting in his glasses.  Ford, himself, closed his eyes and turned his face away.  With a fortifying breath, he patted the kids backs and said, “We have to use the time Stanley’s buying us wisely.”  He pointed to the stone statue of Bill.  "Go ahead.  Smash it.  Give it a good whack or two for your Grunkle Stan and I.“    
  
A smile spread across Mabel’s face as she lifted her grappling hook.  With an equally wide grin, Dipper spun his flashlight rigged with the size-altering crystal.  Ford flung his coat aside and drew his blaster.  (It may have been worse than worthless against Bill at his worst but certainly it could put a dent in his vacant effigy.)  Behind him, Wendy lifted her ax, Soos wielded a golf club, Fiddleford brandished his banjo like a baseball bat, and Pacifica, Gideon, and Robbie cheered them on.      
  
****  
  
Bill glanced around at Stan’s mindscape finding it in even more of a shamble than the last time he’d visited.  Rather than a broken down Mystery Shack reminiscent of an Escher print, it resembled an abandoned city street.  In shades of sepia, hollow corpses of two and three story buildings nestled beside one another, their windows broken and boarded up.  Bricks and concrete crumbled from their facades, exposing the rebar and I-beams beneath.  The single functioning street lamp flickered and sparked before burning out, casting the street in the shadows of predawn.  The sidewalks stretched out to a boardwalk amusement park, battered and half eaten by the ocean.  The tracks of the roller coaster protruded from the waves in twists and spikes of metal, like arms desperately reaching out, begging the clouds to rescue them.  Nearby, silhouetted by the rising sun, was the swing set Bill had seen last time he’d entered Stan’s mind and every time he’d entered Ford’s.  
_  
"Wasn’t it broken in when I was in here before?”_  Bill pondered.   _“It was never broken in Ford’s mind, was it?  Eh, whatever.  Humans and their sentimental mush.”_ He shrugged and floated near the busted storefront windows until he spotted the pawn shop from Stanford’s childhood memories.  The Pine’s Pawns sign was faded and torn, the end half hanging in shreds.  All that remained of the chess piece once displayed above it were broken fragments below Bill’s feet.  Weathered boards crisscrossed the windows and the door hung haphazardly from it’s hinges.  Bill squeezed through.  The shop brimmed with everything from books to bowling balls.  Guitars and chandeliers hung from the ceiling.  Antique clocks and themed salt and pepper shakers cluttered a shelf behind the service desk.  Records sprawled out in a landslide from a toppled shelf unit.    
  
“OK Stan, how am I supposed to find what I need in this mess?!  Either you help me out or the deal’s off!”  Bill shook his fist.    
  
A door behind the service counter creaked open.    
  
“There, see.  Was that so hard?”  Bill floated through and into the stairwell.  He glanced down at the splintered steps and detached handrail, glad he had no need for them.  As he ascended, the apartment door on the second floor opened silently of its own accord then slammed behind him before he could fully understand his surroundings.    
  
Familiar stone walls and blue plaid wallpaper which had faded to a purple hue over the years caged him in.  He was trapped in the Mystery Shack’s living room.  The TV chattered and flickered.  Stan sat in his chair, clad in his boxers and undershirt.  His paddle ball pattered as he counted, “three paddle paddle four paddle paddle.  Hey there!”  He pointed at Bill.    
  
“What are you doing?  Show me how to take down that barrier or I swear-”  
  
“You swear nothin’,” Stan snorted as he stood.  
  
Bill’s image flickered.  "What?  What’s going on?“  He dissolved into an electrified cloud and reformed.    
  
"You’ve been tricked you dumb triangle.”    
  
He laughed, his form twisting into various incarnations of himself, dissolving then reforming in pixelated blocks.  "You’re a family of fools if you think you can defeat me like this!  The deal’s off!“    
  
****  
  
Mabel pounded her enlarged fist into the triangular statue’s face, succeeding in cracking it severely.  Dipper, standing nearly as tall as Bill’s throne had, stomped on the statue with a mammoth shoe, breaking its hat off.  The kids stepped aside.  Mabel turned the crystal attached to Dipper’s flashlight and flipped the switch.  She pointed the beam at her fist, shrinking it back to its normal size.  She then pointed it at Dipper, reducing him to his proper height.  They stood back and Ford took aim with his blaster once more.  This time, the statue shattered completely in a burst of pebbles and dust.    
  
"Kids, go get everyone ready to form the zodiac.  I’ll bring Stanley over when he finishes with that monster.”  He approached his brother who remained slumped on the floor with a blank expression, “Drop kick him once for me, will you?” he muttered with a half-grin, placing his hand on his shoulder.    
  
****  
  
The flickering of Bill’s form ceased and he laughed, low at first then with a maniacal twist more terrifying than usual.  "What good do you think this will do?  I’ll just regenerate my form again when I leave your mind!“  
  
"OK sure.  You do that.  But first, I have something I want to do.”  Stan grinned, his feet spreading into his familiar boxing stance, “This is for messing with my family!”  He drew his arm back and slammed his fist forward stepping into the punch and landing a left hook straight to Bill’s eye.    
  
The demon spun apex over heals.  The door behind him flew open.  Stan charged at him, “And one more for everything you put my brother through,” his foot connected with Bill’s backside, kicking him through the door and out of his mindscape.    
  
“Heh.  Maybe I am good for something after all,”  He smiled as the scene faded around him.    
  
****  
  
Bill’s ethereal form shot forth from Stan’s eyes, spinning through the air like a rapidly deflating balloon.    
  
Stan blinked and shook his head as if trying to flush the last remnants of the demon from his mind.  He felt himself gently lifted to his feet, an arm wrapped across his back for support.  "Heh…  how’d I do, Poindexter?“  
  
"Stanley, you were Brilliant!”  Ford patted his shoulder and took a step forward.    
  
Stan followed, unsteady at first but gaining composure with each step.  He wondered how his brother, who had been dead less than a half hour ago then revived only to be brutally tortured again, was able to hold him up.  He barely gritted his teeth at what had to be excruciating burns covering a fair amount of his body.  Half-way to the zodiac, Stan was able to walk on his own again but Ford kept hold of his arm just in case.    
  
Everyone was already in place around the zodiac as the elder twins stepped into the circle.  Robbie stretched his hand out to Ford and Soos reached for Stan’s.  Ford nodded to Stan and he smiled back, intertwining his five fingers with his brother’s six and forming the final link in the human energy circuit.    
  
An aura of blue glowed around them.  They felt light and relaxed, as if all tension and sadness drained from their bodies.  For the first time in days, the air smelled fresh, like blooming wildflowers and evergreen rather than smoke and ash.  Bill’s flailing yellow glow descended toward them.  It stretched and twisted, trying to escape the pull, babbling incoherently.  In the zodiac’s center, a pinpoint of prismatic light whirled open revealing a rainbow-rimmed vortex of star spattered darkness.  It pulled Bill’s contorted image inward, like water swirling down a drain, and spun closed.  The blue aura surrounding the zodiac faded and the blissful energy washed away.    
  
The fearamid dissolved around them, its fragments pulled skyward into the X-shaped tear between worlds.  It’s force caught Paci-fire completely off guard, yanking him upward before he could react.  Pyronica was barely able to register the danger before it tugged at her cape.  She swam in mid air as if trying to escape a deadly undertow.  Hectorgon clung to the charred remains of a tree.  With a protesting crack, it snapped in half leaving him helpless against the rift’s pull.  8 Ball clawed at the ground unable to catch a good hold on anything more than dirt and ash. Xanthar huddled down as if hoping his weight would anchor him.  Kryptos, however, simply rolled his eye and shrugged, almost happy the boss had been defeated.  Maybe it would take him down a peg or two.  As he spun through the air toward the rift, he shivered at the thought that it would likely only fan the fires of his rage and now they’d be stuck back in their home dimension with his tantrums.      
  
Candy, Grenda, and the Shacktron team jumped and cheered as the rift narrowed.  Before the interdimansional tear sealed, a wave washed out.  It crashed over the town, healing buildings and trees.  
  
The citizens smiled and cheered as their homes and businesses materialized before them, completely unscathed.  The zodiac team, with hands still clasped, floated down.  Their feet found solid ground in the town square, surrounded by grateful citizens.  They released each other’s hands, their heads turning as they took in the warmth of the glorious sunlight illuminating the street.  They breathed the fresh summer air deeply as a breeze rustled the trees.  A barrage of handshakes, hugs, and affirmations crashed into them.  In a chorus of moans and yelps, it rapidly melted into the realization that the hospital was about to be busier than it had ever been.    
       
****  
  
Stan found himself on the floor of a dark room, feeling oddly numb and somewhat dazed.   _“Where am I?”_  He lifted himself up and his gut twisted.  Black beams crisscrossed each other tapering up to a point far above his head.  Bill’s fortress.  Panicked, he turned left and right, scanning the room, until a pyramid shaped cage caught his eye.    
  
“Grunkle Stan!”  the kids yelled to him, their arms extended through the bars, “Run!  before he get’s back!”  
  
But it was too late.  Ropey red arms tangled around Stan’s torso, binding his limbs and squeezing the breath out of him.  They pulled him to his knees as Bill’s echoing, cackling laugh drew his attention upward.  He floated overhead, his hands lifted triumphantly.    
  
The demon’s eye focused down on him as he taunted, “Boy, good thing for me that you really are a screw up.  Thanks to your petty anger, I got to have a nice long chat with my old friend!”  He floated to the left as if presenting a game show prize.  
  
“Grunkle Ford!” The kids sobbed.    
  
Stan’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened.  His heart pounded as his eyes focused on his brother.  "Stanford!“ he shouted, his voice cracking.    
  
Chains held his brother in midair, limbs spread against a black brick backdrop, perforated by lines of rainbow light.  "Kids…  S…Stanley…” his voice gurgled weakly, “R-run…  get…  get out of here…”  He didn’t lift his head and Stan almost hoped he wouldn’t.  Red stains, surreal in their vivid hue, spread down his khaki coat dripping from its hem and splashing against the black stone floor.    
  
“Aw isn’t that cute.  He cares about you guys.  Or is he just afraid you’ll mess things up again?  Oh ha ha!  You already have!  Great job restarting that portal, Stanley!  If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t even be here right now!” his voice twisted maliciously, “And neither would I!”  The corners of the demon’s eye curled, reminiscent of a smile.  With a laugh he readjusted to a jovial tone, “How about I give you a thank you gift?  How does a ringside seat for the show sound?  You’ll get to see exactly how you ‘saved’ your gullible puppet of a brother!”  
  
Bill turned, hovering in front of Ford.  Blue sparks flickered around his eye.  A beam shot forth, engulfing Ford but this time, the kids screamed and he didn’t.   _“This time?  Wait…  No no no no this isn’t really happening!”_  Stan shook his head, willing the arms pinning him down to loosen.  And they did.  
  
The electric jolt radiating from Bill’s eye fizzled out as his attention turned to Stan.  "Oh look, the screw up is trying to fight back!  How cute!“    
  
Behind the demon, Stanford hung limply from his chains, motionless and soundless, smoke rising from his charred form.  Stan slammed his eyes closed and shook his head.  His voice began low and uncertain.  "No.  I am not a screw up.  I helped fight you once,” with higher volume and increased confidence he opened his eyes and puffed out his chest.  "And I can do it again.“  With a determined furrowing of his brows, he looked up to his brother.  The oversaturated redness lifted from his coat like water under a hot iron.  His wounds faded.  The chains lowered him to the ground and disappeared.    
  
"WHAT?!” Bill roared, quadrupling his size and burning bright red.    
  
“Ha ha,” Ford lifted his head, grinning proudly, “Stanley, that was brilliant.”  
  
Stan smiled back, “Yeah, he’s a real idiot if he thinks he can trick me in my own dreams.  What do you say?  You up for this?” he dug in his pocket and produced his brass knuckles.  
  
“Certainly am,” Ford twirled a blaster nimbly between his fingers, “For the kids?”  
  
“For the kids!” Stan agreed.    
  
Together they charged at the demon.  Stan’s fist smashed into his closed eye.  The shot from Ford’s blaster sent Bill reeling backwards.  Stan could hear the kids cheering them on as the cage around them disintegrated…    
  
Their voices faded and his vision blurred.  Sensation crept in, overtaking the odd numbness.  Warmth surrounded him.  He could feel the familiar dent in his mattress cradling his backside.  A dream.  It really _was_ just a dream.    
  
He opened his eyes with a smile.  "Serves you right ya’ dumb triangle,“ he muttered, shaking his fist at the ceiling.  A torrent of rain pattered and pinged against his window and poured over the recently rebuilt Mystery Shack.  He reached for his glasses, slid them on, then glanced around, thankful for everyone’s help in restoring the old place so quickly.  No sign of its transformation into a walking, fighting machine remained.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about the absence of dribbling plops and pings into the two pots and one trash bin which usually caught the leaks in his bedroom.  It felt like something was missing but he figured it was nice of Manly Dan to build the new roof.  Not only had he and the townspeople managed to mostly repair his family’s home before the storm hit but, more importantly, they’d made it presentable in time for the kids’ birthday party.  He couldn’t believe it was only one more night away.  One more night before the party and two more before they had to leave.  His heart sank.  With a sigh he sat up.  His knees cracked and his back protested.    
  
"Ugh,” he rubbed his head and stuffed his feet into his slippers, which, thanks to Mabel, still stank of rotten milk even though he’d washed them five times.  He reached into the cup containing his dentures, fishing them out.  He pressed them into place and ordered his protesting joints to allow him to stand.  He shuffled into the hall, scratching his lower back absently as he approached the bathroom door. He grumbled at finding it closed but waited patiently.  Five minutes passed and he decided to knock.  "Dipper, I really don’t care if you’re in there singing along to that Icelandic music again, but you gotta let me in for a minute or else you’re gonna be the one to clean up the mess.“    
  
The door creaked open and Ford stepped through, tugging at the hem of his sweater and shuffling his socked feet as if he lacked the energy to lift them.                
  
"Oh, I didn’t know it was you in there,” Stan said, “You don’t gotta-”  
  
“No, it’s alright.  You go ahead.  I’m going to need a while and maybe…” he paused, his left hand fidgeting with his right sleeve, “maybe some help with these bandages, that is…  if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Course not.  Just give me a minute to, ya know.”  Stan wagged his thumb toward the bathroom.  
  
“Yes, of course.”  
  
Stan closed the door with a light click.  He shook his head with a “tsk” as he noticed the wastebasket was filled to the brim with old bandages and gauze.  Packages of fresh first aid supplies were stacked in a shoe box beside the sink.  "Ya old geezer, I knew you needed to stay in the hospital a few more nights!“  He yelled through the closed door.  
  
"And miss the kids’ birthday?  I think not,” Ford’s muffled voice answered.    
  
The rubbery soreness of his limbs, however, betrayed him.  He wished he could lean against the wall but he hurt enough without the added pressure against his burns and bruises.  Maybe Stan had a point about staying in the hospital a little longer.  Wounds aside, they’d been treating him for exhaustion and dehydration and had asked a local therapist (thankfully one who had also survived Weirdmageddon) to see him about beginning treatment for PTSD.    
  
At first he balked at the idea until a flashback caused him to nearly yank out his IV and panic when his blaster was nowhere within reach.  He’d clawed at the bandages around his neck and wrists, the memory of the shackles burning through his sweater playing over in his mind, so real he could see them there.  When Stan had to talk him down from trying to escape a nurse who was trying to take his blood pressure, he conceded.  Though somewhere in his mind, he was annoyed by not being strong enough to avoid the hospital in the first place.  But he supposed it stopped being a matter of strength and started being a matter of reaching reasonable mortal limitations somewhere around the time he’d blacked out.        
  
It was shortly after the town had been restored that the world began to blend together in a swirl of dizzying sensations.  He remembered Stan bending down to hug the kids and extending his arm to him.  "There’s room for one more,“ he’d said.  Ford stepped forward and tried to kneel but his vision blurred and his legs wobbled and gave out.  Thick arms caught him.  He tried to fight the darkness bleeding into the corners of his vision as his brother pleaded, "No.  No!  I can’t lose you again!”  He fought to keep his eyes open, gripped with terror that his breath might fail him, just as it had when the electric jolt surged through his heart, because this time, Bill wouldn’t be reviving him.  But like a storm surge in a hurricane, the darkness washed over him, numbing his limbs and sweeping him into oblivion.  Truthfully, he’d never been so happy to awaken again, even if it was in a hospital bed.            
  
Ford’s thoughts scattered as he heard the whoosh of the toilet flushing.  His eyes widened at the nearly inhuman snorts and hacks echoing behind the door.  He chuckled.  It was comforting to hear that after all these years, his brother was still a mystery bag of grotesque sounds in the morning.  Water flowed into the sink and down the drain for a few moments until the squeak of the tap cut it off.    
  
The door creaked open and Stan moved aside, motioning for him to come in.  "Come on, let’s get you patched up.“  
  
Ford nodded, every muscle protesting his movements as he stepped inside.  He winced, his body shaking, as he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub.  
  
"Plumbing still not fixed in your bathroom?”  Stan asked.  
  
“Not yet.  Dan said he should have it working by the end of the week.”  He closed his eyes and tugged at the arms of his sweater, flinching as it scraped against the bandages beneath.  He’d already replaced the gauze around his wrists and lower arms surprisingly well on his own but from the stains leaking through, it was clear the gauze around his neck, shoulders, and chest hadn’t been changed since before they brought him home last night.    
  
The hospital staff had been amazed that Stan and the kids refused to leave him alone.  "Me and him have already faced too much alone.  We ain’t going nowhere and risking him waking up by himself,“ Stan had grunted when they questioned it.  Soos and Wendy brought them food and updates on the reconstruction of the Mystery Shack three times a day and a change of clothes every morning.  Stan had practically made a nest out of the chair beside Ford’s bed.  The kids mostly snuggled beside their recovering great uncle, one on each side of him.  Ford admitted that when his consciousness returned, they had anchored him to reality; reminded him that he was no longer Bill’s prisoner being revived and healed only to be torn apart again.  Stan smiled just thinking about how his brother’s bandaged arms, draped loosely over the twins as he slept, had tightened around them before he’d even opened his eyes.    
  
After Ford awoke, they still refused to leave him.  Even when he told them they should go home and rest for a bit, they shook their heads.  The only time they did step away was when the therapist showed up for his first two sessions and when the nurses requested privacy for him while dressing his wounds.      
  
For a moment, it bothered Stan that the doctors, therapist, and nurses might know more about his brother than he did.  Then again, after so many years there were likely countless things they needed to learn about one another.  The kids had wondered why he insisted on wearing that old sweater in the heat of summer.  They’d asked if he was hiding scars or tattoos or even some sort of alien scales or gills or bionic parts. Stan had brushed it off, bitterly saying he was probably just being his usual weird self.  The kids had asked where he’d been for all those years spent beyond the portal.  Stan had stopped caring the moment Ford refused to thank him.  Suddenly he realized how much he did care, though he wasn’t sure if he truly wanted the answers.  Stan gulped partly at the thought of receiving them and partly at the amount of trust his once estranged brother was extending to him.      
  
Though Ford spoke nearly in a whisper, the sound sliced through Stan’s thoughts.  "Things never change, eh, Stan?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Here we are, old men, and you’re still patching me up after a run in with a bully.”    
  
Well,“ Stan said, using his foot to slide the box of medical supplies closer, "At least this time we don’t have to try to explain this to mom and dad.”  
  
Ford let out a breathy laugh.  "They’d never believe it if we tried to tell them I tripped, huh?  Tripped into what?  A burning electrical substation?“    
  
"Yeah but they wouldn’t exactly be able to call Bill’s parents either,” Stan joked, carefully peeling the gauze away from his brother’s neck, leaving it to hang as he realized he’d started at the wrong end.  Even so, he decided to tend to the medical pad clinging to a particularly nasty burn on the side of Ford’s neck.    
  
“Yeesh don’t say that.”  Ford’s laugh ended in a hiss sucked between his teeth as Stan attempted to lift the supposedly non-stick pad.  "I don’t want to imagine what that monster’s parents would be like.“  
  
"No kidding.”  Stan reached for a washcloth and doused it in tepid water.  He squeezed a few drops over the patch to help release it.      
  
“Stanley.”  Ford leaned his head to the side and bit his lip as Stan cleaned the burn.  "You know, you were right about something rather important back when we were kids.“  
  
"Oh yeah?  What’s that?”  
  
“Not everything dad said was right.  He couldn’t have been more wrong about you.”  
  
“You…  you think so?”  
  
Yeah.  What I said back there, when we were conning Bill…  I meant it.  And really, you were brilliant, not just with that but with everything you’ve done.“  Ford’s eyes closed as Stan placed a fresh medical pad, loaded in ointment, against the burn.    
  
"Yeah well…  I meant what I said too.” Stan replied, placing a second patch over an open blister.  "Alright, you got any idea where they taped the end of the rest of this stuff?“  
  
"I think it’s back here somewhere.”  Ford turned, his back facing his brother, feet inside the bathtub, “Stan… wait.  I- I know the kids thought I was hiding something under…  All this.”  
  
“Ha, yeah, they’re not very subtle sometimes,” Stan joked.  
  
“Well, they’re not wrong…”  
  
“Oh.  So you have been hiding something?”  he squinted playfully, more to ease his own nerves than anything else.    
  
After a pause, Ford answered, “Yes.  Mostly because I didn’t know how to talk about it.  Especially to them.  Partly because, at the time, I just…  couldn’t.”  
  
“Are you…  Are you asking me not to ask about things?”  
  
“I don’t know.”    
  
“S'fine.  I get it,” Stan said with a shrug.  "But…  you know you can talk to me, _to us_ , about anything, right?“  
  
"Mmm,” he nodded, “I guess, please, just don’t get upset…”  
  
“Uh…  OK.”  
  
Stan surveyed the gauze crossed over Ford’s shoulders and under his arms, covering his upper chest and back.  He spotted the end taped near his waist.  His eyes widened as he noticed something else.  Between fresh burns, below the edges of the gauze wrapped below his neck, Stan caught a glimpse of faded tattoos and markings much like the brand on his own back.  He swallowed the lump in his throat and began unwinding the gauze.    
  
As the stained strips unraveled his brother’s secrets, Stan felt as though he was trying to breathe through a clogged straw.  He stepped back under the guise of disposing of the old bandages, glad his brother was turned so he couldn’t see his slack-jawed expression.  Still, from the slouching of his twin’s shoulders, he suspected he knew.    
  
Across Ford’s back and wrapped around his sides, fresh burns obscured large portions of old scars, tattoos, and brand scars of symbols Stan had never seen before.  He wanted to ask but bit his lip instead.  He fought for a deep breath and began removing more stained medical pads and cleaning the burns.  His hands shook and his mind raced.  He couldn’t focus.  The washcloth dropped and he did exactly what his brother had asked him not to.        
  
“Stanford, what the Hell?!”  He couldn’t help it.  He tried to bite his tongue but the thoughts spilled from his mouth, “I can accept the scars and even the tattoos but these…  These are brand scars!”  Ford’s head tipped down and his glasses tipped up.  Stan knew exactly which shamed, scrunched expression he was wearing but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, “It’s all my fault isn’t it?!  It’s my fault you were pulled through into…  whatever nightmare dimension you were stuck in!  It’s my fault you went through whatever all of this is!”  
  
“Stanley no!”  Ford’s fist hit the side of the tub.  "None of this is your fault.  This…  this is why I didn’t want you to see.  I didn’t want you to blame yourself.“  
  
"You called me because you needed help and what did I do?”  
  
“It takes two to fight.”  Ford swung his legs over the side of the tub, turning to face Stan and inadvertently worsening his guilt.    
  
Stan backed into the sink, clutching the edges of it.  He cringed at the alien markings scrawled across his brother’s chest and stomach, not because of their appearance but because the memory of the searing pain from the brand on his shoulder remained horrifically fresh in his mind.  "But you apologized when I was burned.  You were willing to stop fighting and I just had to keep on going.“  
  
"Stan none of these are your fault,” Ford tried to talk over Stan but he kept ranting.  
  
“I had to keep pushing and now you’re covered in…  in…”  
  
“Prison IDs…”  
  
Stan fell silent.    
  
“And bounty tags,” Ford added.  
  
“W-what?”  
  
“Like I said.  They’re not your fault.  It’s because of _my_ dealings with Bill.  He was offering a pretty hefty bounty for me for uh…  more than one reason.  I may have accidentally led a revolution against him at one point…  and stopped him from entering a few other dimensions.”  He lifted his hand, counting on his fingers.  "And then there were the cases of grand theft starship and impersonating an interstellar officer and that spy mission that went awry and possession of an illegal disintegration blaster and oh that time when I didn’t realize the tea shop that hired me was a front for galactonium smuggling…  Basically I’m wanted in several hundred dimensions right now.“  He shrugged, trying to ease the tension,  "And bounty hunters in many of those dimensions mark their catches like this so they can get a cut of the reward.  Then most prisons tattoo an identification on their inmates.  But,” he paused remembering something his therapist had mentioned, “I guess, it’s not all bad because every one of these represents a time I survived and escaped.”      
  
Stan blinked.  After a pause he grinned slyly and said, “Damn Poindexter…  You always gotta one-up me don’t you?”  
  
“Stanley…”    
  
“I’m kidding,” he picked up the washcloth and tossed it in the sink then reached for a clean one and doused it under the tap.    
  
“I’m not,” Ford said somberly, “I know what happened to you after dad kicked you out.”  
  
“Wait, what?”  Stan whirled around to face his twin.    
  
“I mean, I didn’t at the time.  Ma always told me you said you were doing great when you talked to her.”  
  
“Then how do you know now?” Stan asked, his brows arched curiously, “I mean, I didn’t exactly get to tell you a lot before you were sucked into nightmare land.”    
  
“Bill showed me.  He used it against me as a tactic to try to get me to talk.  He knew that even though I tried to move on back then, I was still worried about you.  It was always somewhere in my mind, and I suppose he found it back when I trusted him.”  
  
“Wait, how did he know about _my_ life?” Stan asked, handing Ford the cloth.  
  
“He found the memories in your mind when he was looking for the code to your safe,” Ford hissed as he rinsed a palm-sized burn on his left side.    
  
“Oh.”  
  
“He showed me everything.”  
  
“Um…  everything?  Even the…”  Stan shivered.  "Colombia incident?“  
  
Ford nodded.    
  
"Ugh…  I think I know how you felt…”  Stan said, motioning for his twin to turn around again so he could tend to the burns on his back.    
  
“What do you mean?”  Ford asked, complying with his brother’s request.    
  
“When you asked what the kids and I saw back in Bill’s fortress.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Several minutes of silence passed as Stan placed fresh medical pads over the worst of Ford’s burns and blisters.  He tore open a new roll of gauze and began wrapping it around his brother’s neck.  He followed the pattern of the previous dressing as best as he could, taping the end near his waist.  "There.  Done.“  Stan brushed his hands together and stepped back, ready to give his brother some privacy.      
  
"Thanks…”  Ford reached for his sweater and eased himself into it.    
  
Stan had already opened the door and set one foot in the hall when he was called back.    
  
“Stan?”  
  
“Yeah?”  He turned, one hand on his hip.    
  
“When I asked about what you and the kids saw when we were in Bill’s fortress, you said we’d talk about it later and we still haven’t…”  
  
With a pensive sigh he shuffled back, lowered the toilet seat lid and sat on it.  "Well, the kids didn’t see much.  Wendy, Soos, and the Sheriff made sure.  Your old buddy and I though, well, you pretty much know what we saw already.  We found you dead.  But we didn’t see anything before that.“  
  
"So that means you saw…” Ford’s eyes closed and he shook his head.    
  
“Yeah.  I saw what he did to you after.”  
  
“And the kids?”  
  
Stan paused.  
  
“They were crying.”  
  
“I- I don’t think they saw.  I think they heard parts of it.  They were pretty worried about you though.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“But you were probably a good example to them.  You didn’t give in.  You still had fight left in you.  I think you gave them hope and determination.  If uh…  If what I felt is any sign,” Stan admitted then quickly buried his words, “And, hey, if they didn’t know before, they gotta know now how much you care about them.  Geez Ford, those kids are the light of your life, aren’t they?”  
  
“Yeah.”  He glanced up with a half smile.  "They’re really something.“  
  
"Hey Ford?  I uh.  I know it’s probably something you don’t wanna talk about but what happened before we found you?”  Stan swallowed hard, unsure if he could force out the words.  Finally he faced him and spat it out.  "Ugh I just gotta say it.  Stanford, the last time I saw you cry was when we were kids, sitting in the bathroom back home just like this.  When we found you, I could tell.  Your face looked just like it did back then.“  
  
He blinked, taken aback by the question.  Trying to buy time he answered, "It’s all still a little blurry to me.”  
  
“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but if you ever do-.”  
  
As if starting mid-thought, Ford sputtered, “He kept showing me your memories…”  He bowed his head, covering his face with his palms, his glasses tipping up to his forehead.  "He-“  His nerves jumped and his stomach clenched.  He didn’t want to paint a graphic picture but even more, he didn’t want to hide things from his brother any longer.  The tightness in his chest forced a cough through his throat.  He inhaled, the breath searing it’s way into his lungs and feeling as if he’d inhaled smoke from a chemical fire.  The words were soft when they emerged, barely audible.  "He tore my heart out.”  
  
“Hey, what happened during those years wasn’t great and all but…”  Stan raised an eyebrow, examining his brother’s hand resting over his heart, fingers fidgeting with his sweater.  The color drained from his face.  "Wait.  You’re not saying that figuratively are you?“  
  
"He said he was surprised I had one after shutting you out.  Then he showed me everything.  He kept saying it was my fault…”  
  
Stan stared speechlessly.  "That… That’s what had you so torn up?  Aw man he was really messing with your head.  You know that wasn’t your fault.  I mean, we were pretty much still kids.  Mom didn’t even dare question dad.  If you’d tried to, who knows what he would have done?  I know I tried to blame you for everything but if I’m not allowed to blame myself for what happened to you on the other side of that portal, then you’re not allowed to blame yourself for what happened to me.“  
  
"Stan, you were homeless!  Living in your car!  Locked away in prison in another country!”  He looked up, his reddened eyes catching Stan off guard, “You deserved better than that!”  
  
“Ah.  Yeah, that’s not a life I’d recommend,” he rubbed the back of his head, his fingers ruffling through his gray hair.  
  
“I-I know…” Ford lifted his glasses, wiping his eyes.    
  
“Oh.  Yeah I guess you do.  Shit.  Ford, you deserved better too.  I’m sorry.  Sorry for everything.  For your project and for fighting and trying to hold you back…  and mostly because I…” His head hung between his shoulders, his chest knotting up.  Pressure built behind his eyes until he couldn’t hold it back.  He lifted his head, pushed away his years of creating walls and took his own childhood advice.   _Stop trying to hold it all in all the time_.  His voice hitched as tears dampened his cheeks.  "I didn’t want to save you from Bill.  I only went along with things so I could watch over the kids.  I was just going to leave you there because you wouldn’t thank me!  And…  and then I thought I lost you again because of my own stubbornness!“ He slid to his knees, hands clutching the striped cotton of his boxers.    
  
He heard a tired groan but couldn’t bring himself to look up until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.  Ford knelt beside him, "We both made mistakes.  But we still have time to fix them so,” he paused, managing a smile despite his dampened cheeks, “thank you.”  
  
“But I screwed up!  I made your worst nightmares into reality and then I expected you to _thank_ me for it and cut you off the instant you wouldn’t.  I made you feel like you had no one to turn to when you needed help the most!”  Something ruffled the hair on the back of his head.  It pulled him forward until his chin rested on Ford’s shoulder.  He felt his brother’s dampened cheek press against his own shoulder, his hands patting his back.  Gently, avoiding the wounds he’d just patched, he wrapped his arms around his brother and sobbed into his sweater.  
  
“What you did was give us both a second chance at having a family.”    
  
The rain pattering against the roof slowed to the odd dribbling from the trees looming over the shack.  An orange glow streamed in through the window as the clouds faded from the sky.  Neither twin noticed Dipper and Mabel peek into the room.  With wide eyes Dipper opened his mouth to speak but Mabel clapped her hand over it.  He looked at her to find her holding one finger over her pursed lips to shush him.  She mouthed, “Oh my gosh, Dipper, they’re hugging!” then clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes practically reshaping into giant hearts.  
  
He shook his head partly wishing he could delete the image of his great uncles weeping on each other’s shoulders but partly happy to see them getting along.  He grasped his sister’s arm and dragged her away from the open door.    
  
“We should give them some space.  Don’t you have some sort of top secret knitting thing you wanted to finish this morning?”  
  
“Oh yeah!  I totally do!”  
  
“Great.  Well, the rain seems to have stopped so I’m going to go take a walk around town.  There’s something I want to look for.”    
  
The younger twins parted ways, Mabel ascending back to the attic to dig out the supplies for her secret project and Dipper heading out to the forest.  Several minutes passed before the elder twins, huddled together on the bathroom floor, released one another.    
  
“We both acted based on our perceptions of things,” Ford began, “And I wasn’t exactly open to accepting help when you brought me back.  After so many years alone…”  
  
“You don’t even think to ask for help,” Stan sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.    
  
“And You shut people out and put on a brave face because you don’t want to be a burden.  You don’t want to upset them.  You don’t want them to sacrifice anything for your problems… because you’ve already had help and failed anyway,”  Ford bit his bottom lip, trying to regain his composure.    
  
“Because you believe you don’t deserve their help.  You’re too afraid you’re just going to mess up again,” Stan added.  
  
“Or wouldn’t even begin to know how to ask for it.”  
  
“Or you’re just too stubborn,” they spoke in unison, ending in a laugh.    
  
“Hey, Ford?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I’m sorry I stole your identity.”  
  
“Ah well,  I understand now why you did it.”  
  
“Oh.  Yeah I suppose you know there were some pretty nasty guys after me back then.  Still,  I think I’d rather face Rico and his goons again than what you were dealing with.”    
  
“I know that’s not the only reason.”  
  
Stan sighed, “But it was one of the reasons.  In a way, when you sent me that postcard, you saved me from those guys, from a life on the streets.  You gave me a place to live and a clean start and, well, your reputation around here was enough to make the Mystery Shack seem credible as a tourist trap.  I just wish it didn’t cost me… you.  And I wish it didn’t mean hurting you.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I didn’t think much of it until we brought you home last night.  I walked around the museum and gift shop and realized that I took all of your work, everything you were passionate about, and turned it into a roadside attraction.  It must have looked like I was making fun of you again.”  
  
With a sigh Ford admitted, “It did feel rather like that at first.  I guess that’s why I was so angry that first night back.”  
  
“But you still offered to stay in the basement of your own house.”  
  
“Your house.  You paid most of the mortgage, after all.  I wasn’t thinking clearly enough that night to process that.”  
  
“Eh”  Stan grunted as he eased himself to his feet.  "Even if I paid it I still swept it out from under you.  Let’s call it our house.“  He extended his hand to his twin.  
  
Ford smiled and accepted his brother’s help in lifting himself to his feet.  "Sounds good.”    
  
Stan looked him over and chuckled.  "You know, your buddy Fiddleford and I, we saw Bill revive you and you, ha, holy halibut Ford, you spit your own blood in a chaos god’s eye!  That was the single bravest and stupidest thing I have ever seen in my life.  I’ve never been so proud a’ you before.“  
  
"Ugh you saw that too?”  Ford turned his head away, his cheeks reddening.    
  
“What ugh?!  Not ugh!  That was incredible.”  
  
“Stan if you ever tell anyone…”  
  
“Are you kidding me?  I’m tellin’ everyone I know and everyone I ever will know how my nerdy brother stood up to a demon from sci-fi nightmare land!”  
  
“Alright then I’m going to tell everyone how you conned a demon into making a bad deal!”    
  
“OK it’s a deal.”  Stan gave a sly half grin and extended his hand to Ford.  
  
“Oh-ho no way!  I know better than to make a deal with the ultimate scammer!”    
  
“Yeah well, I swear if I find you murdered by a demon again…”  
  
“I know you’ll punch it in the face.”  
  
“Darn straight,” Stan puffed his chest out.  
  
****  
  
Stan wiggled around, trying to get comfortable on the new sofa in the TV room.  He had tried to rescue his old chair but it had simply seen too many wrestling matches and sleep piles.  During the reconstruction of the shack, the Northwests sent the new sofa over as a thank you despite their financial troubles.  It may not have been a high end model but it was upholstered in nearly the same yellow plaid as his old chair and that gesture meant more to him than how much it cost.  And while he mourned the loss of his butt-cradling cushion, he liked that the sofa could fit his family more comfortably.        
  
“Mind if I join you?”    
  
Ford’s voice caught Stan off guard.  He was supposed to be resting; sleeping in the new bed they’d bought him.  It had always bothered Stan that his brother apparently didn’t sleep enough to bother having one.  His first thought was to tell him he should go try to sleep.  Then he remembered this was the same guy who, when they were kids back in New Jersey, had thrown a blanket over his head so the flashlight wouldn’t bother him when he’d stayed up to read all night.  The same man who, since he regained consciousness, hadn’t managed to sleep for more than a half hour without waking up screaming.        
  
“Sure,” Stan surrendered.  "There’s a station playing a bunch of old Ducktective episodes.  Wanna get caught up on them?“  
  
"Alright, why not.  May as well see what all the fuss is about.”    
  
Before his brother could sit down, Stan asked, “Hey, did you take your meds yet?”  
  
“Oh no.  Not yet.”  
  
“Geez Ford, can’t you tell when it’s time from the pain or something?”  
  
“Not really.  Those pain killers don’t do much.  Not like the ones from dimension 13-44/H.  You could be bitten by an acidragon and never feel a thing…”  He chuckled awkwardly.  "Pesky little critters, they were, like iguanas with wings and venom like acid…  I may have run into a nest of them…“  He trailed off as he noticed his brother’s half concerned, half vacant expression.  "I’ll just go take them now…  Thanks for reminding me.  You take yours yet?”    
  
“Yeah.  Just took 'em.”    
  
Ford shuffled into the kitchen where Mabel sat at the table hunched over a project involving a rather large needle and some black yarn.      
  
“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel jumped and scrambled to hide her project under the table, “Uh hi!  I’m not doing anything. Nope.  Nothing to see here.”  
  
He lifted his glasses, covered his eyes, and said, “Don’t worry.  Whatever it is you have there, I didn’t see it.”  He reached out, swiping the air until his fingers brushed against the fridge.  He tugged the door open and reached for a soda.  With his eyes still averted from the table, he stood on his toes to reach the two prescription bottles on the top shelf.  He struggled to open one and finally sighed in defeat.    
  
“Let me guess, child proof bottles?” Mabel asked.  
  
“How does anyone open these?”  
  
“Eh eh.”  she motioned for him to hand her one of the bottles.  "Just press this down and twist.“  She opened it and handed it back to him.  
  
"Oh, like this?” He opened the second one easily.    
  
“Are they helping with the nightmares yet?”  She spoke softer than usual while fidgeting with something under the table.    
  
“…I think it’s too soon to tell.”  He swallowed his prescriptions with a gulp of soda and set the bottles back on their shelf.  
  
“Did seeing the therapist help?”  
  
“I-”  He’d only seen her twice so far.  Again, it was really too soon to tell.  But he was thankful that she’d advised his family to never sneak up on him and that they should be understanding if he needed long periods of time to focus on his work or an interest.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love them or want to spend time with them so much as that his mind didn’t shut down and time away from his work could be frustrating and even anxiety inducing.  But she had also shared techniques for helping him relax a bit.  Though he’d tried some of the breathing exercises, they hadn’t helped much yet but she had assured him they would with practice.  And he had to admit that it did help when the nightmares woke him.  With that last thought, he formulated an answer, “Not with the actual nightmares but perhaps it has helped in coping with them.”  
  
“Maybe this will help too.”  Mabel slid down from her chair and held up her secret project.    
  
“Mabel, is…  is that for me?”  He knelt, reaching out for the sleeve of the sweater she showcased.  The neck was a vibrant indigo which faded to black at the waist in a perfect gradient.  Single stitches of glittery white yarn speckled it like the night sky.    
  
“Yup!”  Her wide smile exposed her braces, “Is it Okay?”  
  
“Better than Okay.  Mabel, this is exquisite.”  He lifted the sweater admiring the sparkling iridescent thread spun into the white stitches.  He reached out and pulled her into a hug before she could see him tear up.  "I love it.  Thank you.“  With a sniffle he released her.  "I’ll go change into it right now.”  
  
“Wait!  Do you mind hiding it for a bit?  I still need to finish Grunkle Stan’s.  I was going to give them both to you two at the same time but you looked like you needed something now.”  
  
“That was sweet of you.  And of course.  I’ll wait until whenever you’re ready.  How about you hold onto this until then and you can give them to us at the same time then?”  
  
“OK.”  She smiled and nodded.  "It shouldn’t be too much longer, I just need to get this skein untangled so I can finish it up.“  She held up a knot of yarn nearly the size of her head.    
  
Ford laughed.  "Well, Stan said he found some Ducktective reruns.  How about you come and watch with us while you work on that?”  
  
“Okay!”  She followed him into the TV room and sat between her great uncles on the new sofa.  She’d just found the end and began rolling it into a ball when Dipper burst into the room, huffing excitedly.  
  
“Great Uncle Ford!” he yelled with a smile.    
  
“Yes, what is it, Dipper?”    
  
“You’ll never believe what I found in the woods.  Look!”  Dipper swung his backpack onto the floor with a thud and unzipped it.  He reached inside and pulled out all three of his great uncle’s journals.   “They’re a little soggy but otherwise alright.”    
  
“Dipper how?  I thought you said?” He stared in disbelief, a wide grin lifting his cheeks.    
  
“I don’t know.  They were just there.  I guess everything Bill destroyed was healed when we defeated him.”  
  
“Then why was this place still a wreck?” Stan asked.  
  
“I think it’s because we did the damage here,” Mabel suggested, “We’re the ones that made it into a robot.”  
  
“Mabel has a point,” Ford patted the sofa, inviting Dipper to join them.  He hugged the third journal and squished between Mabel and Ford.  
  
“I tried to draw a picture of where I found these,” Dipper opened the journal and showed his great uncle the new entry.  "It’s not very good but-“  
  
"It looks great to me.  Keep up the good work.”  
  
Stan’s arm draped over the back of the sofa as he watched his family.  For a moment, his heart sank as he thought about the twins leaving in two days.  He shook his head and smiled, wanting to simply appreciate the warmth and happiness of the moment.  He didn’t know what the future would bring but whatever it was, he knew he’d see the kids again someday.  Ford looked up from Dipper’s enthusiastic gushing over his journal and smiled at Stan as if he knew exactly what he was thinking.  He nodded reassuringly and Stan knew that no matter what happened, from then on, they’d work through it as a family.    
  
  
  
*The story pretty much merges with canon here except both Ford and Stan have new sweaters and both receive final goodbye hugs before the kids get on the bus.    
*I imagine eventually Stan and Ford discussed what happened during Ford’s time as Bill’s prisoner a little more and discovered that it wasn’t actually Bill who killed him.  Ford can’t remember which of the henchmaniacs it might have been though he does suspect Kryptos.  
*The zodiac sealed Bill out of this dimension but didn’t destroy him.  He could still find a way back ;).  
*Ford agrees to keep up therapy sessions through video chat and text once they leave for their sea Grunk adventures.    
*The elder twins might also pay for the kids to have text sessions because the kids didn’t want to tell their parents about all that happened, fearing they’d never be allowed to see their Grunkles again when possibly the best therapy for them _was_ seeing them.  But eventually they’d probably come clean about everything…


End file.
